Halo: the Art of War
by Havoc-legionnaire
Summary: AU. One small divergence, the smallest of errors, and the balance of fate tips. It is 2552. Reach is spared, for now. Operation Red Flag goes forth. The Covenant will learn that this war that they have started 27 years ago have only just begun.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I cannot believe that I still have to say this, but Halo is all 343 Industry's. **

**Author's note (edit: 12/18/2013): For those of you who has followed my work over the years, you know to expect another action packed story with plenty of advance tech (of my own variety). What makes this fic different is that this is my first attempt to break out of the technical realm and go deeper into the intangibles of war (tactics, strategy, morale, political unity, and so forth). There is a reason why this fic is called the "Art of War". This first short chapter here will set the groundwork for this highly AU fic. This is not your average halo fic and things will diverge drastically, though I hope to keep in characters' relations to cannon strong and realistic. Hope you enjoy.  
**

**Oh, and whoever it was that wrote a TV Trope page for this fic, you deserve an entire box of cookies! For the readers out there, just google "TV Trope Halo: the Art of War".**

**And a final note: Yes, this chapter (along with the next few chapters) have large portions lifted almost word for word right out of Eric Nylund's _Fall of Reach_. This is to quickly remind people of the critical background information and to identify the point of divergence. So credit where it's due. **

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_"The art of war is of vital importance to a state. It is a matter of life and death. A road to either safety or to ruin." - Sun Tzu, the Art of War.  
_

* * *

**0500 Hours, July 18, 2552 (Military Calendar). UNSC Military staging area in orbit around Sigma Octanus IV**

One piece of debris in particular floated near the _Iroquois_. It was small, almost indistinguishable from any of a thousand other softball-sized blobs that cluttered radar scopes and polluted thermal sensors.

If anyone had been looking close enough, however, they would have seen that this particular piece of metal drifted in the opposite direction from all the other masses nearby. It trailed behind the accelerating _Iroquois _. . . and edged closer, moving with purpose.

When it was close enough, it extended tiny electromagnets that guided it to the baffles at the base of the _Iroquois _' number-three engine shield. It blended in perfectly with the other vanadium steel components.

The object opened a single photo eye and gazed at the stars, collecting data to reference its current position. It would continue to do this for several days. During that time it would slowly build up a charge. When it reached critical energy, a tiny sliver of thallium nitride memory crystal would be ejected at nearly the speed of light, and a minute Slipstream field would generate around it. If its trajectory was perfect, it would intercept a Covenant receiver located at precise coordinates in the alternate space.

Five days later, in orbit over the UNDF fortress world of Reach, the _Iroquois _prepares to go into dry docks for repair. The probe had recorded all that it needed and made its exit into slipspace. Everything depended on its precise slipspace solution to return it to its maker.

* * *

**Ninth Age of Reclamation, Step of Silence \ Covenant Holy City "High Charity," Sanctum of the Hierarchs.**

Within the Sanctum of the Hierarchs, the most sacred place of Covenant Holy City of High Charity, the Prophet of Truth rested on his levitated dais before the legion of Sangheili honor guards undergoing his review. Each of the fanatical warriors stood at rigid attention as they prepared themselves for the greatest honor of their lives. To Truth, though, this was little more than a distraction, something to occupy his time as he awaited the message. Just as the ceremony began, the alert finally came and a small holographic display gave the content of the message.

_**The probe has failed to return.**_

_A pity. _

His little experiment had failed to deliver the wanted results. If it had succeeded, it would have greatly accelerated the extermination of the humans.

No matter, though. This was a mere delay on their extinction. The war is progressing well and there were no reason to doubt its successful conclusion. The prophet continued with the ceremony slightly upset but remain totally serene to the observers. After dismissing the guards, the prophet left to control room of the great forerunner dreadnought at the heart of the massive station. It was here, many cycles ago, that a lowly minister of fortitude had met his destiny and began his ascent to power. The control room had since been sealed off to all but the high prophets. He cannot risk any others aside from his two fellow hierarchs know what he knew, less his designs become unraveled.

In the center of the room lay two objects. There was the massive core of the luminary network for which every luminary on every covenant ship was linked to. This is the key to the extermination of the humans. Without the core, the search for human infested worlds would take far too long. How ironic is it that a device meant to the vermin to their legacies would become the means to hunt them down.

The other object in the room was the threat that he had tried for so long to vanquish, but it simply refuses to die. The oracle, this simply looking metallic sphere with eyes, that had tried to destroy everything the covenant stood for, who tried to lay waste to High Charity itself. But now it is but a prisoner of Truth's designs. How many times had he tried to delete the infernal AI, this Medicant Bias? Looking back, Truth decided that he should have known better; nothing of the Forerunners ever surrenders to oblivion without being bombarded by the fleet. Now instead, Truth spends his spare time searching for what secrets Medicant Bias still holds.

"You have failed! The reclaimers shall never have the chance to embrace their legacy. The knowledge of your makers, your knowledge, are mine!"

* * *

But unknown to the Hierarch of the Covenant, Bias was not as powerless as it seemed. Despite its descent from near godhood to being a pitiful prisoner of these primitive meddlers, the ancient AI still had a few cards left to play. The bastard doesn't yet know what it has done (indeed, what it is still doing) to foil these meddlers' campaign of extermination against the rightful heirs of the Forerunners. Bias had served as the hidden composer silently souring the notes in the symphony of destruction that Truth had sought to unleash, including the most recent plot to uncover the home of the Human fleet. And there is still one final act that the AI had planned, a scheme that could turn the war in the favor of the Reclaimers.

What was missing was the opportunity, for this final requires the direct intervention of the Reclaimers themselves to succeed. And it was only a matter of time before the human do intervene. Bias have watched the humans long enough to know how they would react to their current strategic situation. They will strike back with all their might. And it will be hard, for both the Reclaimers and Bias itself have nothing left to lose and everything to gain:

Reclamation and Redemption.

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**AN: Yes, the Battle of Reach doesn't happens (well, yet).**


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I cannot believe that I still have to say this, but Halo is all 343 Industry's. **

**Author's note: Here is the other big point of divergence. I will be introducing a very important OC: a mysterious benefactor who will help change the course of the war.  
**

* * *

**"**_You make the impossible possible, doctor. I make the possible practical." - Col. George Yang_**  
**

* * *

**1500 Hours, May 11, 2549 (Military Calendar) / Epsilon Eridani System, Edward Teller Research Facility, planet Reach**

Doctor Halsey reviewed the files in front of her, her mind rebelling against the revelations. Someone had actually beaten her to the punch, to complete the project that she never could: a truly viable Spartan Program. Her raw anger was visceral and visible. Her knuckles clenched white and angry veins showing on her temples.

And the source of that shocker sat not two meters across from her and behind the desk: Colonel George Yang of ONI Section III. The man stood at just over one and three quarters meters with short cropped hair and chocolate brown eyes of east Asian descent. His appearance was nothing worth noting, neither handsome nor repugnant with no marks or scars that stood out. He was a man that could pass unnoticed to anyone. Now he sat completely emotionless, awaiting her response.

"You son of a bitch!" Halsey spat. The ONI Colonel showed no sign of being cowed. Far from that, he appeared mildly surprised at the Doctor's rage. "The terms of the Spartan Project were explicit. It is my operation!"

"Yes, it did say that." The Colonel responded dispassionately. "It also promised that a whole regiment would be trained. You failed to deliver, so the project was passed to someone else. It was not my decision, but you of all people should know how it works."

"So you stole my work and made it as your own. These Spartan-IIIs of yours..."

"IVs, Doctor. The IIIs were under Ackerson. I started the IVs when he was shut down."

Despite her immediate anger, a thin smile shone through at the news of Ackerson's fall from grace.

"And where is Ackerson now?" Halsey asked, savoring the spite as she spoke the name. The gall of that man to attack her efforts for years only to steal her work. The colonel left his chair for the window, looking out towards the unending forests of Reach.

"He's dead. One of his later projects finally bit him in the ass. What is that old saying? 'Those who ride to power on the back of a tiger often end up inside.' Very appropriate in this situation. The finer details of his demise could be made available to you if you wish." The Colonel smiled at the thought and Halsey couldn't resist a moment of camaraderie with him along with cold sense of satisfaction. It was about time that Ackerson got what was coming for him. The Germans have a word for her state of mind at that moment: Schadenfreude.

"So why are you telling me all of this?" Halsey prodded, though in a more conciliatory manner. "I know your type. You wouldn't tell me that water was wet if you could keep it a secret."

"Simple, I'm looking for a partner. I'm taking over as head of Section III, and I want you to be my top civilian director and adviser. You will be second only to me."

Her eyes rose slightly in shock at that statement, but the Doctor quickly suppressed it.

"Why me?" Halsey question, her tone completely emotionless.

"Because I need the best." Yang replied simply.

"Spare me the flattery, Colonel. You could take my research no matter what I do. I want the real reason."

"You wound me, Doctor. Flattery it may be, it was also accurate. My reasons are simple: our skills compliment each other. You make the impossible possible, Doctor. I make the possible practical. Think of what we can accomplish."

Halsey remained unmoved by Yang's words. The Colonel returned to his desk.

"I trust you've heard that Operation Red Flag has been given the go ahead."

Halsey simply nodded in affirmation before the colonel continued.

"Did you know that HighCom didn't even look at your suggestion to capture a prophet until I backed it?"

Halsey's eyebrow raised on that one.

"Did you also know that there's been a rather significant series of revisions to your proposal? HighCom has decided that it's time to activate the 822nd now that we won't lose everything in one roll of the dice. This will be a joint operation, though your Spartans will take the lead. I will send two of my best teams to back them up."

The doctor was stunned silent for a moment. The 822nd would be activated. In some sense, her decades spanning dream – or perhaps nightmare – would finally come to fruition. She'll give Yang his due credit; he knew exactly how to corner her by bringing up her Spartans.

"Let me tell you, Doctor, the exact nature of the Spartan-IIIs under Ackerson's aegis. Expendable supersoldiers to be thrown en mass against the Covenant to trade lives for time. They used subpar equipment and enhancements as dangerous to the user as it is to the enemy. There were two battalions of three hundred each that were wiped out nearly to a man in exchange for just a covenant refueling station and a minor shipyard. The covenant onslaught continued as if nothing had happened."

"And what does that have to do with you?" Halsey interjected.

"Simple. I was the one who shut Ackerson down."

Halsey scoffed at the claim.

"You'll forgive me for not taking you on your word on that. It wouldn't be the first time that someone high up in ONI has spun a tall tale for me."

On that note, Yang reached into his file cabinet and tossed a folder to the doctor.

"All the proof you'll need is in there." After a few seconds of review, Halsey gasped.

"Ackerson was a fool in addition to being a bastard. It's only when one first realize just how cheap life can be do we realize its true value. But different people draw different conclusions. In his view, he wasn't wasting their lives because they didn't have much worth. You and I know different, that they are actually invaluable. We make Spartans. He made cannon fodder. He gave them the numbers and tools to accomplish suicide missions for Pyrrhic gains. I gave them numbers and tools to survive and triumph and, more importantly, to make a difference. Isn't that what we all seek in life: knowing that we made a difference."

Yang leaned into the desk towards Halsey, looking into her steely eyes.

"These are my Spartans, Catherine, just like the IIs were yours. Now I ask you, help me to help them to make a difference."

She couldn't help but understand what he was implying. So Yang has a personal stake in this mission just like her. She could sympathize with him. The burden of their lives rest in his hands just like John, Kelly, and the others rested in hers.

"Alright. I'm in."

* * *

**A/N: Going forward, the differences will be stark. For starters, Colonel Yang will be a recurring OC, though one off the main battlefield. He is the enabler, facilitator, and more. In essence, I am trying to write this fic with a UNDF (Yes, the UNDF as I don't really enjoy the term UNSC as it seems somewhat corny) that is not so schizophrenic and constantly fighting itself. ****More importantly, I'm trying to write this fic as Dr. Halsey unleashed because it always seemed to me that she was horrible underutilized in canon. And with Yang, she gets a partner that could keep up with her and who compensates for what I think has always been her weakness: a far too strong focus on the theoretical and not nearly enough on the practical.  
**


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I cannot believe that I still have to say this, but Halo is all 343 Industry's. Any lawsuits would get you at most one of my doomsday devices. **

**A/N: And yes, once again, a good deal of this is lifted from Fall of Reach. This should be the last chapter I do that. And also note that I'm going to be using the books for most plot items (the location of the _Pillar of Autumn_ during her time at Reach for example).  
**

* * *

"_Your mission is simple: you are going to capture one of these prophets alive." - Col. George Yang_

* * *

**0800 Hours, August 27, 2552 (Military Calendar) / Epsilon Eridani System, FLEETCOM Military Complex, planet Reach**

This was the third time John had been in this highly secure briefing room on Reach. The amphitheater had an aura of secrecy, as if matters of grave importance had regularly been discussed within its circular wall. Certainly, every time he had been here, his life had changed. His first time was his indoctrination into the Spartans—a lifetime ago. He recalled with a start how young Dr. Halsey had looked then. The second time was when he graduated from the Spartan program, when he had last seen Chief Mendez. He had sat on the bench next to him—where the Chief was sitting now.

And today? He had a feeling that everything was about to change all over again. Clustered around him were two dozen Spartans: Fred, Linda, Joshua, James, and many others he had not spoken to for years; constant battle had kept the tight-knit Spartans light-years apart for more than a decade. What could possibly call for taking all the Spartans off the battlefield?

Dr. Halsey and Captain Keyes entered the chamber. Keyes returned their salute. Another man followed soon after, one of East Asian descent. From the uniform, the man was a Colonel in ONI.

The Spartans stood at attention and saluted.

"At ease," the captain said.

Keyes escorted Dr. Halsey to the center stage. He sat next to the ONI colonel while she stood at the podium. Just then, the door opened again. This time, it ushered a group of eleven individuals. It was then that the Spartans did a collective double take. They all recognized on each of them the superhuman physique granted only by Spartan augmentations. They had to be Spartans. Most of the ten were a little shorter and smaller than his Spartans were, but three of the newcomers stood out. One of them John recognized immediately as one of their own: Jorge-052. John hadn't seen him in almost ten years, though he could remember as if it was yesterday his endless tirades about reconciling his belief in colonial domestic sovereignty and his absolute loyalty to the UN. Jorge saw the chief taking notice of him and swiped two fingers in front of his face. John couldn't helped but grin slightly as he returned the gesture.

The other two persons in question were drastically different from the conventional image of a Spartan. The first was shorter than the average Spartan height by a good quarter of a meter or so.

The other one was quite the opposite of the first: he was gigantic, even by Spartan standards. He had oriental features and stood at well over two and a half meters, dwarfing Jorge or even Sam when he was still alive. But it was his eyes that really stood out. They were calm almost to the point of being glazed.

Before he could make any more observations, the newcomers faced the Spartans and snapped crisp salutes before taking positions next to the Spartans and turning to face the speakers at attention. Among the Spartans, there were slight twitches and glances at the newcomers. John could read them all and he knew they were as shocked and confused as he was. There was one big question in all their minds:

Why weren't we told?

"Good evening, Spartans," Halsey began. "Please take your seats."

As one, they sat down. John could tell that the Doctor had caught them staring at the newcomers from the corner of their vision.

"I understand that you are all very confused at the moment. I promise you that we'll explain everything in good time. First, let me say this. You are to be commended for having by far the best operational record of any unit in the fleet. In the last decade of combat there have only been three KIAs and one Spartan too wounded to continue active duty."

She paused to look at them, a rare smile forming on her lips. "It is very good to see you all again."

She slipped on her glasses. "You all have been assembled here tonight to prepare you for what will easily be the most pivotal and important mission of the war, one that very well might decide the fate of humanity: Operation Red Flag. Colonel Yang here..." Halsey motioned to the ONI officer. "...shall give you the full details."

The doctor surrendered the stage to the Colonel. John noted that the newcomers seemed to recognize this man.

"My name is Colonel George Yang. I'm the head of ONI Section III. I'm sure that many of you are wondering why someone from R&D is briefing you, but the special nature of this operation mandates my involvement."

The room darkened and a large hologram of an unfamiliar alien took shape in the air. It was a frail looking creature with limbs that seemed atrophied and could snap with the slightest application of force. It wore robes instead of battle armor with ornaments that were distinctly covenant in origin.

"This, we believe, is what the covenant call a prophet. We have strong evidence that they are the political leaders of the Covenant Hegemony and are the ones who started the war. The covenant rank and file consider these beings as holy and worship them. Your mission is simple: you are going to capture one of these prophets alive."

John raised his hand. The Colonel nodded at him to ask his question.

"Alive, sir? We're not to eliminate them?"

"Exactly, Master Chief. I want to thank you for reinforcing that."

"But would it not be better to simply eliminate their leadership?"

The colonel smiled at the thought before continuing on.

"Believe me when I say, Master Chief, that the thought is very tempting. But you must understand that war is a political affair. The goal is not to destroy your enemy but rather to force your will upon reality. Dead prophets does not get us any closer to our goals. Contrary to what the boys in Section II have been saying, Spartans, we're on the ropes and about to go down for the count. We simply do not have the means to win this war by military might. The last of the outer colonies are about to fall, the middle colonies are in flames, and a few of the inner colonies have already been struck. Red Flag may be our last chance to end the war on our terms."

_Had it occurred to you that there is more than just winning or losing?_

Captain Keyes' words echoed in John's mind. Now he understood. If you can't win the game, then just pull out of it. It's certainly not losing. A part of his mind rebelled at the mere thought of settling for anything less than complete victory, but his more rational side prevailed. The Chief nodded and Yang continued.

"Red Flag will proceed as following. Phase one. You will engage the Covenant and sufficiently disable, but not destroy, one of their ships. I leave that in the capable hands of Captain Keyes and his newly refitted ship, the _Pillar of Autumn_. That ship is currently undergoing extensive refit in orbital dry dock."

The Master Chief was unaware of any Covenant ship ever being captured. He had read the reports of Captain Keyes' actions at Sigma Octanus IV . . . and considered the odds of actually capturing a Covenant vessel. Even for Spartans, it would be a difficult mission.

"Phase two, Spartans will board the disabled Covenant ship, neutralize the crew, and crack their navigation database. We'll give the covenant a taste of their own medicine."

The Master Chief raised his hand again.

"Yes, Master Chief?"

"Sir. Will we be given mission specialist personnel to access the Covenant computers?"

The colonel grinned and turned to Halsey.

"I'll let the doctor explain that one." Halsey took center stage once more.

"In a manner of speaking," she said. "We will come to that point later on. Let me assure you, however, that these specialists will cause you no serious complications during this phase. In fact, they will prove rather useful in combat."

Like Captain Keyes' statement that winning wasn't everything . . . Dr. Halsey's reply was another puzzle. How would such computer specialists not be a liability to the Spartans in combat? Even if they could fight, it was unlikely they'd be anything but weak links in combat. If they couldn't fight, the Spartans would be forced to baby-sit a vulnerable package in a hot combat zone.

"Phase three," Yang continued, "will consist of taking the captured Covenant ship to their home world."

Several questions immediately formed in the Master Chief's mind. Who would pilot the alien ship? Had any one ever deciphered the Covenant control systems? It seemed unlikely since the UNDF had never captured one of their ships before. Were there Covenant recognition signals that had to be sent when entering their space? Or would they just steal their way in-system? When a plan had so many missing pieces of data, the Spartans had been trained to stop and reconsider its effectiveness. Unanswered questions led to complications—"snags." And snags led to injuries, death, and failed missions. Simple was better. He held his questions, though. If Dr. Halsey is involved, they would have planned for these eventualities.

"Phase four will be to infiltrate and capture the Covenant leadership and return with them to UNDF-controlled space."

The Spartan took a few seconds to take it all in. This operation would be the hardest engagement of his life by leaps and bounds. Even if everything went according to plan, there was no way that they weren't going to lose people. But he remembered what Chief Mendez had said about spending lives. If the cost of an honorable peace was for the Spartans to make the ultimate sacrifice, he could live with that until his time comes.

"This op is considered extremely high risk. There are too many unknown elements involved and we simply do not have the time to gather the required intelligence. I speak for HighCom when I say that we cannot order you to do this. This is a volunteer only operation. Anyone willing to take part in this, please stand..."

As one, every member of the audience stood up. There was an obvious look of pride on the Doctor and the Colonel's faces.

"While there are other details of the mission that you need to be briefed on, I'm sure that you want some answers."

The question that came foremost to the Chief's mind was how many more Spartans were there? For the past twenty seven years, he had watched as one Spartan fell after another. His family always grew smaller. Now for the first time, it had gotten bigger. The colonel gestured to the new Spartans to come up onto the stage, and every one except for Jorge followed suit.

"To fully explain the situation requires time that I do not have at the moment." Yang continued. "Doctor Halsey will see to it that the proper files will be made available to you regarding the Spartan-IV program. Suffice it to say, today marks the official activation of the 822nd Spartan Regiment."

For a few seconds, John's mind ground to a halt as he tried to absorb the revelation. That was anywhere between four hundred to well over a thousand. In some way, it made sense in regards to this operation. HighCom would commit all of his Spartans only if there were more to spare. The generals and admirals weren't deluding themselves about their prospects of survival.

John mentally screeched to a halt again as he realized what the Colonel had just said: A fourth Spartan program meant that there had to have been a third. The colonel didn't mention that any Spartan-IIIs were in the 822nd. Now he wanted those files even more.

The colonel turned to the IVs.

"Carter. Nicole. I think that it's time for you to introduce yourselves." Two of VIs stepped forth, a man and a women. The male had a flattop haircut with cobalt eyes and a prominent scar on his left cheek. The female had brown eyes with brown hair that was longer than regulations permitted.

"Lieutenant Commander Carter-259, Alpha Company, 1st Battalion. Commanding officer of Noble Team."

"Lieutenant Nicole-458. Echo Company, 2nd Battalion. Commanding officer of Spearhead Team."

Both Spartan-IVs showed all the physical signs of being experience veterans, but their eyes shined like a freshman cadet's in the naval academy.

"For at least the duration of this mission..." Yang continued, "...the Spartans present here will form the 1st Spartan Combat Group. Spartan-117, the command is yours. You may organize your unit as you see fit."

John shifted ever so slightly. He was confident in his ability to command anything up to a battalion – something he had done in the field a few times during emergencies – but he felt somewhat uncomfortable at the prospects of ordering a Lieutenant Commander around. The colonel noticed his discomfort. Doctor Halsey noticed it as well.

"Do you have a problem, Master Chief?"

"It's nothing, Sir." John quickly responded. Too quickly. Silence hung in the air for a few more seconds as Yang kept a knowing gaze on John.

There was no sense hiding why he was almost fidgeting now.

"Sir, while I am more than willing to carry out the mission within the stated parameters, it feels... odd ...for a Master Chief Petty Officer to order around a Lieutenant Commander."

Yang chuckled slightly at his statement. Strangely, Doctor Halsey boasted a conspiratorial smile; she obviously knew something on this matter that the Spartans didn't.

"Yes, that would be awkward. Which is why you're being promoted, Commander. Congratulations."

For the third time in an hour, John's train of thoughts came crashing off the rails. For the first time in a long time, all of the Spartans clapped and cheered for their newly promoted Commander. Kelly grinned widely, her demeanor full of cheer as she hurried him towards the stage. Even the ever so stoic Linda smiled for him. John couldn't even remember the last time she smiled. The doctor pulled out of her pocket the oak leaf clasps of a Commander and placed them on his collar.

"You deserve it, John. It's been a long time coming." the doctor said beneath the deafening applause. "And don't worry, we won't have you to stay behind the lines in a desk or to take charge of a battalion."

Just then, the Colonel checked his chronometer and raised his hand to silence the crowd.

"Unfortunately, Spartans, the doctor and I are out of time. All the necessary information will be forwarded to you at the earliest opportunity. Operation Red Flag is slated to begin in seventy two hours. And I know that you all would prefer to get to know each other now, but Noble and Spearhead are needed to finalize the new equipment slated for this operation. In the meantime, you will be given new armor, equipment, and weapons. And please don't forget to speak with Captain Keyes regarding any arrangements you may wish to make on the ship."

The doctor and the colonel left for the exit. The other Spartans poured onto the stage to offer their personal congratulations.

"Oh, and Commander!" John turned. The colonel was halfway through the door. "Get yourself to the quartermaster. You're out of uniform." A slightly confused John then heard the the colonel chuckle to himself as he left. "I've always wanted to say that."

* * *

**1800 Hours, August 27, 2552 (Military Calendar) / Epsilon Eridani System, Edward Teller Research Facility, planet Reach**

Yang poured himself another cup of tea. Before he sat the teapot down, he gestured to offer some to Halsey.

"You're sure that I can't interest you to try some jasmine tea?"

"I'll pass, thank you." Halsey replied.

"I could have some coffee brought in if you like."

"Why don't we skip straight to business, colonel?"

Yang sighed at her statement. "It hurts me that you won't let me be the gracious host, but alright."

"I'm surprised that you still want to commit Spearhead team on the mission. Noble team, I can understand; they're not so different from my Spartans. Hell, Six is just like John." Halsey began. "But I see that you didn't take my suggestion to leave 514 out of the mission."

"The Spartans will need his skills."

Halsey huffed at that comment.

"Skills? Is that what you call it?"

"Skills, talent, propensity. Whatever you like to call it Wa is very good at what he does, despite what Ackerson did to him."

Halsey leaned forward. "You mean **because** of what Ackerson did to him."

"Now I won't argue semantics with you, doctor. He has proved himself an operational asset. And I pray that you keep that opinion between us. If the IVs should ever find out what you just said, morale would drop like a rock. They accept him for what he is. And he is one of them."

"No he isn't, George. You can put a raging monster in Mjolnir armor, but he's still a raging monster. We've both seen those records. He's not a Spartan; he's a killing machine."

Yang nodded disapprovingly at her statement.

"It's not his fault that he is the way he is, Catherine. And you don't control the shock trooper. You unleash him. Besides, I would have thought that what he did to Ackerson would have put him on your good side."

"Oh, I do approve of what he did, George; Ackerson more than deserved it. But he's a potential liability in the field to my Spartans. That overrides every else in my book."

"I'm sorry you feel that way, Catherine. But Red Flag is set." the colonel said before he took another good swig of tea. "And besides, if you're going to assault a castle, you should bring a battering ram. And we're definitely going to need one."


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: I cannot believe that I still have to say this, but Halo is all Bungie's. Any lawsuits would get you at most one of my doomsday devices (Go ahead and take. I have more!). **

**A/N: In the past, I've introduced technical information in the form of an appendix. This time I tried doing it like a dielectric. Please tell me which way seems to be better. A lot of what's here comes from both the canon version of the Autumn and my old fic, though some is brand spanking new.  
**

* * *

"_HighCom has officially reclassified the Pillar of Autumn as a battle cruiser.__" - Col. George Yang_

* * *

**0400 Hours, August 28, 2552 (Military Calendar) / UNS **_**Pillar of Autumn **_**, in orbit around Epsilon Eridani System, Reach Military Complex**

Captain Keyes tapped the thrusters of the shuttle pod _Coda _. The tiny craft rolled and the _Pillar of Autumn _came into view. Normally, Captains did not ferry themselves around the space docks of Reach, but Keyes had insisted. All unauthorized personnel were restricted to a narrow flight path around the _Pillar of Autumn _, and he wanted to take a careful look around the outside of this ship before he took command.

The first thing that caught his eyes, though, wasn't the ship. Rather, it was the sheer size of the swarm of shuttles, construction drones, and engineers in EVA suits hovering over the cruiser. To the uninformed observer, it looked like every technician on Reach was committed to the _Autumn_. Even with his lengthy experience piloting shuttles, Keyes strained himself to avoid collisions. Once he finally got in close, the captain finally got a good look at his new ship.

The cruiser was not as he had envisioned. The main gun looked small, comparable to the one of the _Iroquois. _There was not a single 50mm cannon mount in sight. Instead, there were dozens of odd dual gun mounts of some sort. The engineers were fitting thick layers of armor that were definitely not vanadium steel or Titanium-A. There were a number of pods jutting out slightly from the hull. Additional emergency thrusters were fitted on.

He definitely had a few questions to ask before this mission got underway.

He touched down on an automated landing platform and locked the controls down. A moment later the shuttle descended below decks and was cycled through the airlock. Captain Keyes gathered his duffel bag and stepped onto the flight deck.

Colonel Yang was there to greet him. "Welcome aboard, Captain."

The two exchanged salutes, though they were mere gestures of courtesy rather than protocol as they both were at the same pay grade.

"It's nice to see you again, Colonel. Forgive me, but I was expecting my weapons officer."

"Ah, yes." Yang replied in between his chuckles. "Lt. Hikowa is indisposed at the moment. She is still trying to familiarize herself with the new modifications."

Keyes was surprised at that one. Aki alone had been on board for three days and she was a very quick study. If she wasn't ready with just the weapon systems by this point, then the captain should have a lot of homework waiting for him.

"Please, let me give you the tour." The captain nodded and the two proceeded to the elevators. Yang punched in the buttons for engineering whilst Keyes lit up his pipe. The platform accelerated and the two men held onto the rails to keep their stance. "There's a lot to go through, Captain, but I believe engineering should be the best place to start."

"I have to say that I don't recognize much on my way in, Colonel."

"Yes, that is to be expect. The _Autumn _is nothing like what she was a few months ago. Believe me when I say, Captain, that you're standing on the most advance, and dare I say, the most powerful ship in the fleet."

The elevator halted and the two were ushered into the massive cavern that was engineering. It was easily four stories tall with multiple catwalks and rails crisscrossing the airspace.

"And there it is, the heart of the ship." Yang pointed to the massive reactor at the center. The main reactor ring was nestled in the center of what appeared to be two smaller reactor rings. Technicians floated nearby taking readings and monitoring the output displays on the walls.

"I'm not familiar with this design, Colonel."

"It's the newest reactor design. Hell, it was only a prototype until a month ago. The _Autumn_ utilizes two new breakthroughs in reactor technologies. First, the two smaller fusion reactors over there come online to supercharge the main reactor. Their overlapping magnetic fields can temporally boost power by three hundred percent."

"I don't see any coolant pipes."

"There are none. This reactor uses a laser-induced optical slurry of ions chilled to near-absolute zero to neutralize the waste heat. The more we crank up the power, the more juice we have to cool the system. It is very efficient."

Captain Keyes whistled appreciatively as he scrutinized the room. "And the second?"

"He-3 Fusion, Captain."

Keyes turned to the colonel with raised eyebrows. He-3 fusion was not a new technology; it had been first pioneered centuries ago. Compared to standard deuterium and tritium fusion, it was far more powerful and efficient as the vast bulk of its energy output is in the form of charged particles that can be easily and very efficiently harvested. Its drawbacks, however, was the many fold increase in critical pressure to maintain the reactions. That meant that it was a lot hotter, and therefore, a lot harder to contain. It was very much possible for large fixed reactors like the ones powering Reach's orbital defense platforms to maintain He-3 reactions, but the larger size of He-3 reactors meant that it was usually more space efficient to simply have another D-T reactor on hand. That being said, there were exceptions for such as when one simply does not care about size of the reactor or if the local power infrastructure was better suited to having just one powerful reactor.

"The main reactor looks way too small for an He-3 reactor. How do you maintain containment? I'd expect that the whole ship would melt before you achieve the right pressure and temperature."

"That's because those two reactors are dedicated to maintaining containment on the main reactor, allowing the main reactor to focus on power generation instead of containment as most He-3 reactors do. Normally, the main reactor would run on deuterium and tritium, and this already gives you a very good boost in power. In combat, you can boost it into He-3 fusion to provide even more power."

"How much power?"

Yang grinned with pride. "Seven times the normal output, Captain. This gives the engine a very high output ceiling. The _Pillar of Autumn_ may be a capital ship, but she's actually significantly faster than a Tribal class destroyer. At full speed, the Autumn could outrun everything except for a _Swift_-class frigate."

He removed his pipe and tapped it in the palm of his hand. This was good news. He would have to rethink his old tactics. This new engine and reactor could give him new options in battle.

"I brought you to engineering first because I thought that the reactor design would help you understand the other shipboard systems. It is also a perfect example of most of the other new technological advances on this ship. It is not the impossible made possible, but rather the possible made practical."

Keyes nodded appreciatively. So many in the UNDF disparage the seeming technological disparity between the UNDF and the Covenant. But those who truly understand war knows that it is not the flashiest or shiniest new piece piece of technology that delivers, but rather it's the ones that does nothing more than getting the job done when coupled with the skill of the user. More often than not, low tech is the best tech.

"Why don't we go to the main gun's chamber, Captain." Yang said as he gestured to the elevator again.

"Lead the way, colonel."

When the two finally arrived at the main gun's chamber, Keyes found himself yet again unfamiliar with the surrounding technology. Not that he was surprised with that by this point, though. Instead of the normal oversized electromagnetic coils, there was instead a comparatively small coil that was segmented at countless intervals. The coils wound tightly enough that it didn't look like it could fire a normal MAC round. Smaller additional rails run parallel to the main rails. Something clicked inside the captain's mind. He took a puff of his pipe and turned to Yang.

"It's a helical rail gun, isn't it?"

"Basically, yes. It's actually an augmented helical rail gun, but we still call it a MAC to save ourselves a mouthful. Again, it's a technology that is well known, but not practical until now."

Keyes nodded in comprehension. Rail gun technology is no secret. Every high school student could build one. The rail gun's ability to use Lorentz acceleration over Gaussian acceleration of coil guns made it a clear superior, but accelerating projectiles with rails to high velocities quickly burns the rails out from friction. One could get only a few shots before burning out the rails, not something conducive to survival in combat. After the flux saturation problem of coil guns was solved, they grew powerful and economical enough for interstellar warfare. Rail guns, however, were still clearly superior thanks to its higher force to energy conversion ratio.

The augmented helical rail guns combines the best of both worlds, effectively folding both designs into one. The twisting rails that provide Lorentz acceleration also serve as coils to provide Gaussian acceleration. The smaller additional rails provide an additional conductor that doubles the power by providing a pulling as well as a pushing force as per the Lorentz equations. The efficiency of the MAC to convert electromagnetic power to kinetic force is therefore much higher than either designs by themselves.

Keyes pointed his pipe at the rails. "How did you solve the friction wear issue?"

"You can actually thank the Covenant for that one. Studying their plasma weapons gave use a better understanding of plasma conduction."

"Ah, I see." Keyes took another puff of his pipe. So rather than solving the friction problem, Yang had completely circumvented it. The rails do not actually touch the round. Instead, a layer of plasma completed the circuit between the round and the rails to give it Lorentz acceleration.

"It might be smaller than any MAC in the fleet, but it packs more muzzle energy than the main gun on a _Marathon_ Class. But that's not the end of it." Yang pointed down across the chasm to a series of capacitors. "See those babies? Those are the Mk 21 models. They're smaller and they carry more juice than the old Mk 19s. We have them lining up halfway through the ship. With the field recylcers and the helical rails' higher efficiency, we can fire three rounds before you exhaust them."

"Three rounds?"

"Yes, you heard me right. And because MAC's lesser power draw per shot and the new reactor, the capacitors also recharges a lot faster. You can fire a burst about every forty seconds or one round every fifteen seconds. And that's not all." Yang went over to a terminal and brought up a holographic display of a MAC round. "This is a Mk 22 round. It uses a hollow point design to mushroom against its target. It's smaller and lighter so it flies faster and therefore has a longer effective range. It's also the first MAC round to carry a payload."

The captain raised his eyebrows. The upgrades he has seen so far were very intelligent, but this was simply idiotic. "But wouldn't the extreme impulse detonate the explosive charge?"

"You're right, it would. That's why it is not an HE charge. The Mk 22 carries a load of lithium deuteride along with a depleted uranium tamper. When the rounds impact, the hollow point supercompresses the fusion fuel to supercriticality. The initial fusion detonation releases a neutron burst that then transmutate the depleted uranium into U-233 that then fissions. The result is a 2.7 megaton detonation at point blank range in addition to the initial kinetic energy of the round."

Keyes' eyebrows rose on that piece of information. "A nuclear MAC round?"

"Exactly, Captain. It'll be one hell of a surprise for the Covenant." Yang said, cackling at the implications of the statement. "When we tested it, the Mk 22 acted like a giant HEAT round. Its fusion grade plasma jet carried the round's momentum and sliced through anything that we could put in front of it, in addition to the explosive effects. The plasma torpedo has nothing on this."

The _Autumn _definitely packed a lot of offensive firepower. But what about backups and secondaries? Ever since the war started, a ship's MAC was considered its only real offensive weapon. Missiles, for all intents and purposes, had been relegated into a last ditch defensive role unless employed in swarms of thousands by whole battle groups. Perhaps the colonel had something that changed that calculation.

"What about secondaries? Did you pull anything out of the magic hat for that?"

Yang grinned again. He definitely had more surprises. "Of course, Captain. Please, follow me to one of the missile magazines."

Once again, the elevator collected the two men and disgorged them at one of the ship's forward magazines that store the heavy ordinance. Inside, over a dozen technicians were securing missiles and locking them up into heavily armored containers. The two began strolling among the men and women.

"Most of the missiles are standard Archer missiles. We don't want to leave you with nothing that was familiar to you and your crew. But there are three new types of missiles." Yang stopped by a missile that had a green colored warhead, ordering the technician aside for a moment. "This here is the Mk 48 ECM Missile. It has no real offensive capabilities, but it does disrupt all electromagnetic sensors within a 10 km radius. It alters range and position and velocity calculations and generates thousands of ghost signatures."

The benefit of such a system was obvious. Most of the time, archer swarms were simply shot out of the sky by Covenant point defense lasers. If they can disrupt the Covenant ship board targeting sensors, the Archers don't have to be launched in the hundreds just to ensure a few hits. It didn't changed the fact that Archers were still mostly ineffective against Covenant shields, though.

"Looks good. I could really use these. What else do you have?"

Yang lead him across the bay, this time to a blue colored missile. A technician opened up the missile for Keyes to see. Its inside looked nothing like a high explosive warhead. The surface was very clean and as reflective as a mirror. There was a foam-like filler that dominated most of the interior. A sizable metallic sphere inside that showed nothing of its content formed the rest.

"This here is the Mk 59 Firestorm Missile. It's based off of Covenant plasma yield explosive technology."

"Like the plasma charges?"

"Exactly so. It took a long while to crack how they generate a sufficient flash yield to make plasma on such a small scale, but we've finally done it." Yang huffed in exasperation. "Induced gamma emission detonators for a pure fusion device. The initial radiation burst vaporizes the polystyrene foam into plasma. The thermal output is equivalent to just shy of 28 kilotons."

"A 28 kiloton yield?"

"Damn straight. It also has the benefit over nukes in having no real radiation concern for your ship upon detonation no matter the range. Credit goes to Doctor Halsey for the initial design. It was too expensive to make as it was, though. I managed to tone the cost down. Still costs more than thirty Archer missiles, but it hits harder than a couple hundred of them."

"How do they compare against plasma torpedoes?"

"Well, they're not as efficient in thermal transfer because of them having no magnetic constriction field to force the plasma into the target. But you can launch more plasma than they can."

That was true. The even a Covenant CCS-class cruiser could only launch eight torpedoes at once and anything bigger than that just mount particle beam cannons. Compared to that, there is really no effective limit to the number of Firestorm missiles a UNDF ship can launch in an engagement. Even if one plasma torpedo was as good as three or four Firestorms, there is simply no contest. This was especially true if ECM missiles were launched at the same time. More importantly, one only need enough Firestorm missiles to breach the shields as Archer missiles have proven themselves to be quite effective against unshielded Covenant ships.

"How many do we have on board?"

"For a mission like this, I got you every single one we've made so far. About nine hundred of them. But they aren't the biggest warhead you have on board. Please follow me." Once again, Yang had the technicians seal up the missile and the two traversed to another missile. This one was colored red and a lot bigger, wider than Keyes was tall. Most tellingly, though, was the familiar nuclear material sign on the missile.

"This here is one of the twenty the Mk 66 Harpoon Torpedo we have on board. It packs a one hundred and twenty five megaton warhead. But there's two reasons why this is nothing like the Shiva aside from its raw output. First is its stealth system that lets it run cold enough to blend in with background radiation. It's slower than the Shivas, but it's worth it. It also uses a biased tamper warhead design. The depleted uranium tamper is thinner on one side and is fitted on a concave tungsten steel tamper. When the nuke is triggered, the biased tamper and the exterior concave focuses the radiation blast and the plasma pressure forward."

Once again, the captain was understood the colonel's designs. This focused blast at least partially ameliorates the inverse square luminosity problem of all nukes in space: as distance increased, luminosity decreases by the inverse square of the distance, making even the most powerful nukes impotent at range. While the focus blast design doesn't solve the issue, it does extend the effective range of a nuclear detonation. It would also lessen the threat to the user by directing most of the blast in the other direction towards the enemy.

"Very good, colonel. I can see these evening the odds. But what about defensive weapons?"

"Regarding those, I'd show you to them personally, but that would require us getting off the ship. And I am running a little short on time. So why don't we just go to the bridge and I'll show you there?"

"Of course, colonel."

Again, the two men entered the elevator. This time, though, Keyes noticed that the lift seemed to be moving backwards.

"I believe you pressed the wrong button, Colonel. We seem to be headed aft."

"No. No mistake has been made. The CIC is in the center of the ship. We cleared out a cargo bay for the space."

"Oh." So now the bridge was in the center of the ship. While he could appreciate the soundness of the placement, Keyes couldn't help but feel a little deprived. Every ship up till now had its bridge at the bow of the ship for its commanding view. Admittedly, it's a little silly to make the nerve center of the ship so exposed, but the view and the romance of the stars was hard to ignore.

The lift finally opened. After a short walk down a narrow – but very defensible – corridor, they arrived at the CIC. At once, the bridge crew dropped their current tasks and stood at attention.

"Captain on deck!" Lt Hikowa announced.

"As you were." Keyes responded. The crew turned back to their stations, save the lieutenant. She looked pretty ragged with bags underneath her eyes. The last time Keyes had seen someone like this was right before final exams back at the naval academy.

"Welcome aboard, Captain."

"Likewise, Lieutenant. The colonel have been giving me a very informative tour of the ship. What do you think of the _Autumn_ so far?"

"To be honest, sir, I feel..." She sighed before she began again. "I feel like I'm back in the academy." She said as she tried to put wayward strands of hair back in their place. "These new systems are a lot of homework. Don't get me wrong. I think that they're absolutely worth it. But still."

Yang tried to stifle a chuckle. He was clearly enjoying their mental misery. "Well I wish you a good night sleep **after **you're finished, Lieutenant. We'll need everyone at their best for the mission to come. In the mean time, I hope that I won't be too much of a bother while I show the Captain the ship's defensive systems."

Hikowa rubbed her eye. "I'm sorry, Sirs. What was the question again.?"

A pregnant pause hung in the air as Keyes eyed the Lieutenant.

"Go get some sleep, Lieutenant." Keyes said. "That's an order."

"But...but I'm not finished with..."

"We can afford to lose you for eight or nine hours, Lieutenant. Red Flag is not set for another couple days." Keyes countered as he gently pushed her towards the door. By this point, Yang had broken out into a laugh. Keyes could only give him a disapproving glare. "You know, you remind me of an old professor of mine that enjoys torturing his student with excessive homework."

"Hehehe. A vice I picked up from one of my own professors back in the academy. Well, why don't we get back to business, Captain." The colonel moved to the main holographic display. It offered a wider view of all relevant information than the older screens, though there was a large backup monitor on the wall.

"The _Autumn_ has three different defensive systems." Yang began as he brought up a schematic of ship. "The first involves avoiding getting hit in the first place." He then brought up a close up of what looked like some of those protruding armored pods that Keyes had seen on the hull. "This is a Mk 3 ECM pod. They work in conjunction with the ship's sensors to disrupt Covenant sensor and by covering the ship in EM absorbing cold plasma. You can run this system hot or cold. During cold runs, you can hide the entire ship."

"I assume you mean only if I power down just about every system first and find somewhere inconspicuous to hide?"

"That goes without saying. I'm good, but I'm not that good. Even I can't turn a cruiser into a prowler. You can't hide right in front of them in the open, but you can hide in the shadows now. During hot runs, it broadcasts ghost returns and falsifies the ship's exactly location and velocity. The Covenant can bring in all the firepower they want, but they can't hit what they can't lock on to. Within reason, of course. They still can lock on to you once they get close enough."

Keyes took another puff of his pipe. This is how the UNDF can win, not by fighting harder but by fighting smarter. "I assume that the ECM systems have been field tested?"

"Yes. We used them in an engagement about two months ago." Yang changed the image to the odd exterior dual gun mounts. "These are the Mk 2 Phalanx pulse laser turrets. They're based off of a project that Doctor Halsey had in mind for the Spartans. They uses a free electron laser design that is designed to vaporize a thin layer off of the target before inducing harmonic resonance to detonate the plasma violently. There are thirty of these on the ship."

Laser turrets? There were obvious benefits to that over the 50mm cannons. These phalanxes could obvious hit farther than the 50mm rounds, not to mention not having to worry about ammunition. The new reactor would provide more than enough power. Might even be actually useful for close range knife fights with the Covenant. One thing about the colonel's statement, though.

"You said detonating plasma..."

"You're on the right track, Captain. They can intercept plasma torpedoes. But don't get your hopes too far up. Our best guess is that it would take a sustained barrage from multiple guns to down a torpedo. But moving on..." Yang brought up an image of another armored pod, though this on was clearly bigger. "This is a prototype shipboard cold plasma shield generator. It's the first of its kind. But don't be fooled. It's not as strong as the Covenant versions."

"But surely with the extra power..."

"It's not a arithmetic relation between power input and shield strength. There are problems with magnetic flux saturation on this scale that we haven't been able to solve yet. And as I said, it is a prototype."

Well, it was understandable. He shouldn't expect miracles, though by this point one could be forgiven if they did. "How strong is it?"

"Well I could give you the number, but let's keep it simple. Covenant pulse lasers, no problem. One plasma torpedo, definitely. Two torpedoes, maybe if you use the Phalanx batteries to soften them up first. Three torpedoes, definitely not under any circumstances. But you do have one advantage that Covenant shields don't: the _Autumn's_ shields recharges faster than the average Covenant shields."

"I assume that the last defense is the ship's armor and honeycomb hull? I guess that that's the reason that a Halcyon-class was chosen."

"Exactly so, captain. No one in the fleet needs an introduction on how tough the Halcyon's hull is. Nonetheless, we reinforced the braces with amorphous Titanium-C. We designed a new armor specifically to work with it." This time, the holographic display showed a cross section of the ship's armor. There were multiple layers of composites. "This composite armor has layers of tungsten disulfide, inorganic nanotube weave, and ablative ceramics that reacts violently with plasma. More than that, they actually detonate in specific manner to shove more armor sections towards the breach. There are also spaced layers flooded with CO2 to quickly flush out the heat."

So that's why the _Autumn_ was selected. Plasma is nightmare to deal with on a ship. Explosive force, however, was something that the UNDF designers and engineers know very well how to deal with. The new armor turned plasma into simple explosive force that the honeycombed hull could take. It was no exaggeration to say that this ship could take a lot of punishment.

"And that covers all the big items. Well, there is the AI, but I'm she'll introduce herself well enough once Halsey is done with her." Yang check his chronometer. "And just as well because I'm out of time. I'm afraid that this is where we must part ways, Captain."

The two men shook hands before Yang turned to leave. The captain looked around one more time before he sat down in his chair. It fit a lot better than the old one on the _Iroquois _and gave a good view of his crew and the holographic display_. _It was real leather too, instead of the synthetic imitation.

Well, Captain's privileges. There has to be some for the commanding officer of what is now easily the most powerful ship in the UNSC fleet. He listened closely to the hum of its machinery and vibrations of its decks. Even without an AI, every ship has its own special characteristics and quirks, its own spirit if one believed such.

"Hello, ship. How are you today?"

The air itself seemed filled with anticipation and he think he knows why. The Halcyons were never really given the chance to prove themselves in combat. Now not only was the _Autumn _brought back from the bone yard and given a chance to do just that, but it was placed with the responsibility to be the chariot of the Spartans, humanity's greatest heroes. She did not want to disappoint.

"Oh wait. One last thing, Captain." Yang announced, having doublebacked through the door. "HighCom has officially reclassified the _Pillar of Autumn_ as a battle cruiser."

Any uninformed person would simply have filed that information into the back of his mind. But the captain was a learned man in regards to naval history. Battle cruisers were originally envisioned as a fast capital ship with the guns of a battleship, but only the armor of a cruiser. They were intended to raid enemy convoys and otherwise strike indirectly at enemy mid-weight ships. They were meant to be able to outrun anything that can kill it and kill anything that can catch it. The concept was great, but the realty was otherwise. From the _HMS Hood _to the _IJN Kirishima, _battle cruiser were often dragged into open fights with more heavily armored opponents that always left the former as burning scrap heaps.

In this case, the comparison was more than apt. If everything worked as Yang predicted, victory and therefore survival in a fight between the _Autumn_ and the Covenant would depend on who lands the first shot.

"That's not exactly something to be proud of, Colonel."

"I see you're familiar with their history. HighCom wanted to make sure that the _Autumn_ doesn't get to your head, though I see that it's not the case. Just remember that ships like the _Autumn _are never meant to fight fair."


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: I can't believe that this still has to be said, but Halo is all Bungie's. Any attempts to sue the author will net you at most one of my doomsday devices (Go ahead and take, I have more!)**

* * *

"_The old Mk 4 were really just testbeds and prototypes compared to this. The Mk 5 is a quantum leap forward in every sense of the phrase." - Doctor Catherine Halsey._

* * *

**0600 Hours, August 29, 2552 (Military Calendar) / Epsilon Eridani System, UNSC Military Reservation 01478-B, planet Reach**

The marine and naval personnel present in the hallways instinctively made way for the column of super soldiers and saluted him. Commander-117 returned their salutes. It was still awkward for him to think of himself not only as a commissioned officer, but a commander, after spending nearly a quarter century as a master chief petty officer. Some might think that he had a right to be a little bitter for being a non-com for that long, but John understood that there was a perfectly good reason for that: promotions are based on needs and why promote him if his nominal position was as a platoon leader.

All of the Spartan-IIs were present, though Noble and Spearhead teams were missing. He had been told that they were waiting for them. He suppressed a frown. They were really still complete strangers. None of the IIs had a chance to get to really know the IVs in the short time they had yesterday. He had read their general profiles though, so he at least had an idea of what to expect. John hoped to finally get a chance to sit down and talk with them.

The commander rubbed the back of his neck as he and the other Spartans were ushered into the massive repurposed hangar. The new implant itched and he still knew nothing about it. All the surgeon would say about it was that it was mission critical.

Immediately, the Spartans took in the contents of the massive room. The first thing they all noticed were the rows of Mjolnir armor to their left. They were obviously new, completely unscratched and free of dents. Instead of the olive drab green of the their old armor, these were gun metal gray and jet black, reminiscent of ODST hard suits. They were also slightly bulkier, albeit not terribly so. The second thing they noticed were the personnel present: Colonel Yang, Doctor Halsey, and the six Spartans of Noble team wearing the new black and gray armors. One particular set of armor, however, stood aside from the rest. It was slightly bigger than the others and had what looked like some communication gear on the helmet. It had a clearly labeled designation on the chest piece: 117.

"I hope that you all had a good night sleep, because we have a lot to go over today." Colonel Yang began. "Yesterday was my show. Today, the doctor will be your guide."

"This is the Mk 5. It is real Mjolnir armor." Doctor Halsey declared as technicians began clearing out of the hangar. "The old Mk 4 were really just testbeds and prototypes compared to this. It is a quantum leap forward in every sense of the phrase. Please, go ahead and put them on."

The Spartans proceeded to don the armors. John was led to the armor in front of the others. It was immensely awkward for the two non-Spartans present as the mass of twenty two Spartans stripped casually and helped each other into their new suits. Both Yang and Halsey quickly turned away.

"I see that you never got used to that either." Halsey whispered to Yang. The colonel simply shook his head. Beside them, the Nobles tried not to notice their embarrassment, but Jorge let out a slight chuckle. After twenty minutes of doing anything but looking at the naked and semi-naked Spartans, the two turned to see the Spartans back at attention in full armor.

"I'm sure that you will want to know what improvements we've made." the Colonel gestured to the Nobles. "Noble team have been my personal testers and demonstrators for my projects over the years. They have volunteered to give you a short demonstration of the Mk 5's technical capabilities."

With that, Yang stepped back and gave Halsey the floor. "The Mk 5 has thousands of minor improvements. I will send you all a full list of them later. There are four big technological breakthroughs, though. The first is the new reactor. It uses a new pulsed He-3 fusion design that gives it a three fold power increase over any other models. With a little help from the colonel and his teams, I was able to shrink it down enough to make the power pack only slightly bigger than what you're used to. The extra power makes the Mk5 almost twice as strong and fast as your old ones. This also opens the door for our other breakthroughs."

The doctor gave Noble Team a quick nod that they returned. The air cracked with small electric arcs as a translucent distortion covered the Nobles. There was an audible pop and the distortion mostly faded away, though the IIs superhuman eyesight still caught traces of it over the Nobles' armors. Immediately, the IIs all made the same conclusion. They've all seen this before in the field with the covenant elites' personal shields. A few moments after, though, the glow returned in full force with a slight humming in the background. This time, the IIs recognized them as the same as the jackal wrist shields.

"We've managed to reverse engineer Jackal wrist shields. And improved on them, I should add. They are far stronger than anything that we've seen the covenant to possess. As you just saw, the Mk 5 shields have two modes. The first is similar to the covenant elite's personal shields in that they offer general protection without the compromising glow and sound of the jackal shields; this is the default shield mode. The second is analogous to the jackal shields; significantly more powerful and far more resistant to kinetic fire, but completely lacking in stealth. This we call the assault shield."

A multi-functional personal plasma shield? John quickly grasped the benefits of both modes. The normal shield wouldn't compromise them while trying to evade the covenant's attention. The assault shield would give them the edge when stealth was no longer a concern. Still, there were situations in between the lines that didn't fit well into either concept. While fighting in built up areas, for example, they could go loud and rely on the environment and the normal shields to hide their exact locations or immediately hit the assault shields and try to simply outlast the enemy in a straight up fight. He would have to think on this and try to balance out the pros and cons for each particular scenario.

"Aside from powering the shields," Halsey continued. "the new reactor also powers some additional... shall we say, equipment."

With that, the Nobles powered down their assault shields and slowly backed away. Just as the glow and the hum disappeared, though, they became more and more translucent until they themselves disappeared from sight. Instinctively, the IIs activated their thermographic sights, the normal counter for covenant personal stealth fields that have served the Spartans so well. What they got, however, was the thermal outline of only the doctor and the colonel. Seeing that technology has failed him, John quickly returned to normal vision and scanned the room. After a few seconds, he finally found the six slight distortions right behind the doctor.

"We've managed to improve the covenant personal stealth cloaks and fit them right into the armor. As you just saw, we've managed to hide the thermal emissions by redirecting them into the ground. That said, there are still limitations on them."

Four of the distortions closed with the IIs. About ten meters away, John could make out the finer details of each, though they were still difficult to discern. After it was obvious that they had been identified, the four Nobles de-cloaked. The doctor then ran her hands onto one of the remaining cloaked Noble.

"Aside from still being visible up close, the plasma distortion field doesn't take too kindly to disruptions. It's not going to fail at the touch of a feather as you can see, but..." Halsey pulled her arm back and gave the cloaked Spartan a good slap in the back. The cloak faded away. "And also..." The doctor withdrew a small pouch from the pocket of her lab coat. She poured the content onto her hands, dust from the looks of it, and blew it onto the last cloaked Spartan. The distortion field quickly collapsed. John knew that trick; it was a common method to expose cloaked elites in very hot or very cold areas where thermographic scopes don't work well.

"Aside from an active camouflage, we've also installed a new adaptive passive camouflage layer on the armor's surface."

The Nobles armor changed in color. Instead of the gun metal black and gray, the armors now sported a woodland camouflage pattern with multiple shades and spots of tan, brown, and green. A few seconds later, it changed once more. This time, it was a desert pattern with tan background and irregular spots of brown. After that, it changed to an urban camouflage pattern with thousands of light gray, green, and black spots. Finally, it changed into a snowy white arctic camouflage. This passive camouflage system was something that the Spartans could definitely use.

"The third big upgrade is quite literally in the palm of your hands. There are superconducting micro-couplers in your gloves that allow some of your new equipment and weapons to draw power directly from your suit's reactor."

John took a good look at his gloved hands. They didn't seem any different at first glance. Come to think of it, the idea of never again having to worry about battery life on his equipment was very appealing. An idea popped into his mind. "Doctor?'

"Yes, John?"

"Do these coupler require a proper sync before they can be used?"

The doctor smiled at the implication of John's question. "No, they do not have to be synced before they are active. The aforementioned weapons and equipments were deliberately designed to handle massive power surges. The couplers activate immediately at your will. So don't hesitate to be... creative in its application."

John nodded.

"The fourth and last big advancement pertains to computer experts mentioned in yesterday's briefing and to you, John. Your armor was separated from the rest for a good reason: it is the Mk5 command and control variant. Your armor has a powerful electronic warfare suit that rivals any of its far larger companions in the entire UNDF. There is layer of crystalline weave underneath that can house a starship grade AI."

Now it made sense. Instead of having to protect a team of hackers and computer engineers, they now have a single AI being carried literally within the armor. With the electronic warfare suit, the potential liability becomes a potential asset. They could completely compromise the enemy's communications while securing and streamlining his own.

"But that is not all, John. That modified sub-cranial implant they have just given you is a new neural interface that allows the AI to interface with your brain. An interface of wetware, if you will, to communicate and share mental resources."

That piece of news was far from welcomed. A part of his mind could already envision himself being a puppet for an AI, a mere observer of his body's action while this AI hijacks the suit.

"Doctor, does that mean that the AI can take over the armor?" John asked nervously.

"No. No. Definitely not. I'm afraid you misunderstood me, John. The link is for sharing information, nothing more. In that regards, it further streamlines and harmonizes your neural interface with the armor to increase reaction time."

Inwardly, John let out a sigh of relief. Doctor Halsey pulled a data crystal from her pocket.

"And here she is. Her name is Cortana. She is, next you and the other Spartans, my greatest creation. And she's chosen you specifically to be her guardian."

She placed the crystal in his hands, closing his grip softly into it as one would a precious gift.

"Go ahead, John. She's been waiting for you."

He inserted the chip into the implant slot. A freezing chill shot through his head and down his spine before settling down into a liquid warmth. The world spun for a few moments.

"Hm. Not a lot of room in here. Could use some housecleaning. Hello, Commander." A voice surprisingly like Halsey's said within his helmet.

Now he was at a loss. How should he address her? Did this AI have a rank? Certainly, she was not a civilian or a fellow soldier. Should he treat her like any other piece of UNDF-issued equipment? Then again, he treated his equipment with the respect it deserved. He made sure every gun and knife was cleaned and inspected after every mission.

It was unsettling. He could hear Cortana's voice through his helmet speakers, but it also felt like she was speaking inside his head. "Hello, Cortana."

"Hmm . . . I'm detecting a high degree of cerebral cortex activity. You're not the muscle-bound automatons the press makes you out to be."

"Automaton?" the Master Chief whispered. "Interesting choice of words for an artificial intelligence."

Dr. Halsey watched the Master Chief with great interest. "You must forgive her, John. Cortana is somewhat high-spirited. You may have to allow for behavioral quirks."

"Quirks? Is that what you call someone giving her honest opinion?" Cortana countered.

"Alright, enough. Enough." Yang injected. "You might have time to burn, but I don't."

"Yes you do! I have a copy of your schedule. It is entirely flexible. I can give you three different configurations that even more efficient than your current one." Cortana quipped. To the side, Doctor Halsey sighed and looked away. John could hear her muttered underneath her breath 'not again'.

"Now, now, Cortana. Far be it from me to break protocol." Yang responded.

"Ah, but you are the head of section III. The rules don't apply to you."

"True, but I follow them nonetheless. Do you know why?"

John felt increasingly awkward as the moments passed. Cortana's words were coming from his helmet's speaker and the colonel's words were shot at his direction even if they weren't meant for him. Each of the Spartans' heads darted back and forth to follow the exchange. For the first time in memory, he was a noncombatant caught in the crossfire and completely unsure of what to do.

"Because you're an unrepentant martinet and an egotistical megalomaniac?"

The colonel smirked. "Perhaps so. But the main reason is because I'm the one who wrote them. They are **my **rules. I'll follow, bend, or break them as I see fit."

The silence hung in the air for a few moments.

"Well, I suppose that it takes one insufferable know-it-all prima donna to know one."

After a few seconds of tense silence, the colonel burst into a sidesplitting laugh. "Ah, touche, Cortana. Touche." He turned to face the massed Spartans. "Now in all seriousness. Spartans, take a few minutes to familiarize yourselves with the new armor settings and control. Afterward, we have some brand new weapons for you to try out."

With that, the Spartans began experimenting with the settings of their armor. John noticed that his movements seemed to be lighter and faster, perhaps not as fast as Kelly's but definitely approaching her reflexes. He tried the passive camouflage first. After running through the three settings, John decided that the normal gunmetal black would be fine for now. After that, he tried the shields. It popped into existence with a single command. As John tested his body's motions, he almost slipped, having next to no traction to the floor thanks to the plasma field. Rubbing his hands together, he found them as though they had been greased.

"You should be careful with that, Commander. The plasma shield does wrap around every part of the armor and it has a coefficient of friction that's next to zero." Cortana injected. "Here, let me fix that for you." The protective field dropped away on the soles of his boots and on his hands. "There you go. I lowered the field there to give you some traction. Just try not to get shot in those areas."

John tested his balance again and found his stance firmly fixed to the ground. The traction of his grip also returned. "Thanks."

"Anytime, Commander. I'm good for a lot more than just hacking everything in radio range."

* * *

**0800 Hours, August 29, 2552 (Military Calendar) / Epsilon Eridani System, UNSC Military Reservation 01478-B, planet Reach**

"So what can you tell me about these Spartan-IVs, Jorge?" John began. The Spartans were marching out of the hangar towards a waiting firing range about a kilometer away where Doctor Halsey and Colonel Yang were waiting for them. The two Spartan-IIs trailed the rest of the column, taking their time to talk.

"Sir?" Jorge responded. "I thought that Doctor Halsey sent you their files.

"The files were only a general description of the Noble and Spearhead teams. Not too much for me to work on. And I want to hear what someone who has worked with them has to say."

"Hm. Alright, sir. I'll tell you what I know. Noble is the best team of Spartans that the Spartan-IV program produced. Not much difference from us, really. We are a flexible all purpose fire team."

"What is your opinion on Noble as a team?" John requested.

"Well, they're definitely solid under fire. The team is well balanced to face any situation. They're not as universally adaptive as the IIs are, but they make up for that by cooperating closely and working to their individual strengths."

"And the Spearheads?"

At that question, Jorge seemed not wanting to be as forthcoming as before. "Well, sir. I, ah, don't think that I'm the person you should be asking if you want to know about them."

Now John was truly pique. Not much could get the normally very conversational Jorge to nervously hold back. "And why not?"

"It's, uh, really hard to describe them, Commander. Hell, there's one thing that I can think of that works for those Spartans. Colonel Yang said this about them about two years ago. 'If you want it done right, call in Noble Team. If you want it done fast – or sometimes done at all –, call in Spearhead.'"

That was not very inspiring to hear. Before John could ask Jorge to expand on that, the two Spartans discovered that they had arrived at the firing range. There was a standard shooting alley with targets going all the way out to a kilometer and a half. On the other side of that, there was a free range course that tests the shooter's ability to fire on the move. However, it was what's in the center that caught the Spartans' attention: racks after racks of weapons of all sorts and calibers. They weren't familiar guns either; John couldn't recognize a single one of them. Aside the racked guns were a series of crates with NavSpecWar labels with the words 'Spartan Munitions' written on them. The five members of Spearhead team stood next to them. Four were in armor, save their helmets. John knew their names from the dossiers Doctor Halsey had given him. There were the two identical twins with short blond hair, Jonathan-665 & Steven-666. Next to them were Richard-602, a Spartan with black hair that was slightly longer than regulation permitted. In front of them was the brunette Nicole-458, the team CO. Curiously, the last member of Spearhead, the gigantic Wa-514, was again alone in wearing fatigues. His attention was fixed on the empty distance as though he was lost in thought or in a trance. Either way, he was clearly paying no heed to anyone else in the area.

"And now we get to the fun part." Colonel Yang began. "The weapons before you are newest generation of UNDF small arms. They will replace the entire current Marine and Army armories within the next month or so. I personally oversaw their development and even designed a few myself. And you Spartans, will get the first go at them. Since I'm on a schedule, though, I'll only show you a few of them."

The colonel picked up a rifle from the racks. It resembled the old BR-55 somewhat, but there was a lot that was different. The carry handle had been replaced for Picatinny rails. There was forward ejection port instead of side ejection. From the size of the magazine, it seemed to use the quad stacked 60 round magazines of the MA5 series instead of the double stacked 36 round magazines. There was also a forward grip.

"This here is my own personal design. It is the M55 Advance Combat Rifle. This particular one is the battle rifle variant. It fires at 600 rpm from a closed rotating bolt. It's a major improvement over the MA5 in terms of accuracy."

Yang moved to the shooting alley and raised a target at 150m. He set the selector switch to full automatic, took aim, and fired. To the Spartans' surprise, the colonel laid down a sustained burst and burned through the entire magazine in ten seconds. The first thing they noted as he fired was that the M55 fired slower than the old MA5, about 300 rpm slower to be precise; that's not to say that 600 rpm isn't fast, though. They then noticed that the vast majority of the rounds, at least fifty out of the sixty, struck the target.

That was definitely impressive. The MA5 was a powerful rifle, but it could kick like a mule. Most civilians couldn't handle it effectively at all at mid range, being neither trained nor physically built to control the drift. Even marines, who had minor augmentations to make them stronger and faster, could only fire them in short bursts of around three rounds without losing control at mid range. A Spartan could make the full use of the MA5 at mid range on full auto, but even they had to limit themselves to five round bursts at that range.

"The M55 can put that off because it uses two recoil mitigating systems. The gas piston system is a balanced long stroke design. This compensates for the shifting center of mass from the bolt cycling. It also uses a constant recoil bolt carrier to draw out the recoil to let the shooter absorb the impact over time. Those two features, combined with the muzzle brake, make the M55 a lot easier to control than the MA5. Tests have shown that the average marine can pull off what I just did at 150m. I expect you Spartans to do even better."

John pondered on the implications of that kind of full auto accuracy. If they could put down a sustained full auto barrage accurately at, let's say, 300m, the covenant wouldn't stand a chance at that range.

"It also uses a more powerful round than the MA5." Yang raised a single 7.62x51mm round. "Meet the 7.62x51mm Semi Armor Piercing High Explosive UNDF. I prefer to call it the Super 7. This round uses new powder that burns faster than the 7.62mm NATO for more power. Thanks to its self-sharpening tungsten body, it has a very high kinetic transfer coefficient. It also has a smart sensor system that detonates a small HE charge once it pierces several centimeters of flesh or it loses most of its kinetic energy. It's practical effect is that it has the same stopping power as a 12.7mm NATO round. The M55 can use both the 7.62mm NATO and the super 7, though do try not to use the super 7s with MA5; the result is not pretty."

The colonel then picked up what looked like two underbarrel attachments.

"You also get your choice in attachments. This four round external magazine shotgun is standard, but there's also a 50mm grenade launcher available."

The colonel placed the rifle and the attachments back on the racks and picked up a very odd and stubby rifle. It was really not much longer than his forearm. Yang pulled out its magazine to show the Spartans. It was the same quad stack 60 round magazine as the MA5 and the M55.

"This is the M22 Personal Defense Weapon. It's slated to replace the M7 SMGs. It is admittedly heavier, but believe me when I say that it's worth it; not that I think it matters much to you Spartans. It's main benefit is that it uses the same ammunition and magazine as the your rifles. Not to mention that it hits harder."

Ammunition compatibility was a real benefit for John. Being able to carry just one type of ammunition in the field allowed a squad to carry a lot more of it.

Yang took to the shooting alley again and emptied the PDW's magazine. This time, the accuracy was not quite as good, though John knew that it was due more the short length of the barrel than the colonel's skill. It fired at around 900 rpm, as fast as the MA5. It would be lethal at close range and be much more flexible in tight spaces. Hell, it was compact enough that John could use it as a sidearm.

Yang racked the PDW and picked up a large weapon with a very large bore. "We also have an automatic shotgun for you. But that's pretty self-explanatory, so I'll leave that here. And there are other weapons here that are the same. We have the M72 LAWs and M25 Pile Drivers and such, but you'll be fine without my introductions."

Yang motioned to the five Spearheads to come to him. Four of them came over and emptied out one of the crates, though the largest one, Wa-514, continue to stand where he had before. The four Spearheads picked out several fairly large weapons.

"And I have just a few more minutes left, so I'll show you the two most important SMs we have. These are the Spartan Munition series of weapon. They're made to much higher specifications and can put out a lot more firepower than any comparable marine small arms. Nicole, would you mind?"

The leader of the Spearheads wielded a large rifle that vaguely resembled a MA5, though it didn't have the overhead cowling that housed the gas action and the counters and sights. It had an underslung attachment that looked like a grenade launcher, but it also had a tubular magazine that resembled some shotguns. Ejecting the magazine, she showed the other Spartans that the rifled used 12.7mm rounds.

"This is the SM-1 Spartan Combat Rifle. The interior workings are generally the same as the M55, though as you can see it's been heavily reinforced to accept 12.7mm rounds. The super fifties that being used here is the same design as the super 7s, giving them the same stopping power comparable to a 25mm cannon round. The underslung weapon is an internal magazine 50mm grenade launcher, though don't hesitate to put some canister shots in them if you get the chance."

A 12.7mm automatic rifle? The idea was definitely attractive to John, though a part of his mind countered with a question of logistics. How often does one come across 12.7mm ammunition on the battlefield? Not often enough. Like all weapons, there was a clear tradeoff. Another Spearhead, the sharpshooter Steven-666 if John remembered correctly, stepped forth with another rifle that was even larger than the SCR. From the exceptionally long barrel, almost a meter and a half, he surmised that it was a high-powered sniper rifle of some sort. Surprisingly, it used a bullpup design, something that John had never seen before on large rifles. It had a very large barrel shroud, larger than it would seem to need. On the side of the sights, there was an elaborate engraving that caught the Spartans' eyes.

_Eargesplitten Loudenboomer_

The colonel chuckled once he spotted it. He didn't seem surprised. "Uh. Please ignore that, Spartans." He turned to Steven. "You didn't tell that you've already finished engraving it."

"Yeah, well, you know me, colonel. I can get the job done fast."

"Right. Moving on. This is the SM-4 Augmented Helical Rail Rifle. A major improvement over the M99 Stanchion. Using your suits' power couplers mated to the rifle's grip and the augmented helical rails, it can attain muzzle energies on par with 50mm kinetic penetrators with just a 12.7mm self-sharpening tungsten slug. The Mk 9 Oracle scope on top can go up to 100x magnification with a full EM spectrum scan and thermographics."

Yang showed Steven to the shooting alley. On the range about 600m down, John saw several technicians setting up what looked like a good quarter meter thick Titanium-A plated reinforced polycrete wall that some hardened marine installations used. Behind that, the technicians were parking a warthog.

"Steven, please give us a demonstration of the rail rifle's power."

"Sure thing, Colonel." Steven took aim. The task shouldn't be too hard. John had full confidence of making the shot himself and he knew that Linda could do it one handed and blindfolded.

After another fraction of a second, Steven pulled the trigger. It was quite a bit louder than the older SRS99C-S2 AM rifles, which was shocking in and of itself considering that coil guns and rails guns weren't that loud from the lack of exploding gases. The round tore right through the armor plated polycrete wall and kicked up a blast of sand about a hundred meters behind. For a moment, John wasn't sure if Steven had hit the warthog, but a rising column of smoke put that doubt to rest.

"And that, kids," Steven said. "is why it's called the _Eargesplitten Loudenboomer._"

* * *

**0800 Hours, August 30, 2552 (Military Calendar) / Epsilon Eridani System, ****UNS **_**Pillar of Autumn**_**, interplanetary space, Reach Military Complex**

"Status reports," Captain Keyes ordered.

Lieutenant Dominique spoke first. "Communication systems are green, sir. Monitoring FLEETCOM Reach traffic. No new orders." Dominique had gotten his hair shorn since he had been on the _Iroquois_. He also had a new tattoo around his left wrist: the wavy lines of a Besell function.

"Reactor shakedown eighty percent complete," Lieutenant Hall reported. "Oxygen, power, and pressure all green lights, sir." She smiled, but it wasn't like before—an automatic gesture. She seemed genuinely happy.

Lieutenant Hikowa took her seat and strapped in. She gathered her black hair and tied it into a knot. "Weapons panel shows green, sir. MAC gun capacitors at zero charge."

Ensign Lovell finally reported: "Navigation and sensor systems online, Captain, and all green. Ready for your orders." Lovell was completely focused on his station.

A small hologram of Cortana flickered on the AI pedestal near navigation. "Engine shakedown running smoothly, Captain," she said. "All personnel onboard. You have half-power now if you wish to move the ship. Fujikawa-Shaw generators on-line . . . you can take us into the Slipstream at your pleasure."

"Very good," Captain Keyes said. Keyes surveyed his crew, pleased at how they had sharpened up after Sigma Octanus. Gone were the bleary, haggard expressions, and the tentative, nervous mannerisms.

_Good_, he thought. _We're going to need everyone at the top of their game now._

The crew had been briefed on their mission—part of it anyway. Captain Keyes had insisted. They were told they would be attempting to capture Covenant technology, with an aim to disabling one of the aliens' ships and bringing it back intact.

What the crew didn't know were the stakes.

"Approaching Reach system's edge," Ensign Lovell reported. "Ready to generate a Slipstream event."

This was it, the point of no return. Keyes took a few silent moments to listen to the ship's whispers once more. She was ready to take the fight to covenant. Keyes finally gave the order.

"Very well, ensign. Take us in."

Gravity amassed before the ship's bow_,_ distorting the fabric of space-time until it finally punched a hole through into the eleven dimensional void of slipspace. With the roar of her powerful engines, the _Pillar of Autumn _charged into the breach, the hope of all humanity resting with her.

**

* * *

A/N: I have to admit that this chapter was harder than I had thought it would be. There's just too many guns to explain, so I wound up just picking a few. I still felt that the flow of the chapter feels a little rushed. In any case, the next chapter will be devoted to explore the background and personality of many members of the cast. Most of the focus will be with Keyes, Noble Six, Spearhead Team, and Commander-117 himself. And for those who noticed that Steven's demeanor seems completely out of place with what a Spartan should be; know that he's a small hint on the other four members of Spearhead. **

**An internet cookie for whoever first finds out what the inspiration for the **_**Eargesplitten Loudenboomer **_**is**_**.**_

**And my deepest appreciation for my betas, Tikigod and ****vrbtny. They help make this story possible (and having some semblance to English instead of lower Slobovian).**


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: I can't believe that this still has to be said, but Halo is all Bungie's. Any attempts to sue the author will net you at most one of my doomsday devices (Go ahead and take, I have more!) **

* * *

**A/N: This chapter introduces the more tactical details of the operation. While the general ideas are drawn from the books, this plan will be quite different. Also, a couple of minor characters from canon show up. For the m****ost dedicated and knowledgeable Halo fans out there, I trust that you'll noticed that I changed the design of the Nova bomb. As a former student of physics, I couldn't bring myself to write about the Nova without making both its yield and its operation more realistic. **  


* * *

"_We will use the captured freighter as our Trojan Horse to infiltrate the warship." - Lt_._ Elias Haverson, ONI Section I_

* * *

**0800 Hours, September 1****st****, 2552 (Military Calendar) / UNS **_**Pillar of Autumn**_**, ****en route to Sector 259. **

Walking into the briefing room, John found four people already waiting for him seated at the round table. Captain Keyes sat at the center. Next to him was the commanding officer of the ship's marine compliment, Major Antonio Silva. On the opposite side of the captain was an ONI lieutenant with short red hair that he didn't recognize. Finally, Cortana's miniature avatar projected out of a nearby holotank. For a moment, he wondered if he should stand for the briefing until he spotted a heavily reinforced chair prepared for him. He took his seat next to the Major. Silva had a flash of indignity on his face, but it disappeared as quickly as it appeared.

"Let's get this meeting started." Keyes began. "Gentlemen..."

"Hey!" Cortana interrupted. "I'm right here."

Keyes seemed amused by Cortana's outburst. John himself, not so much, though the Spartan kept it to himself.

"Ladies and gentlemen." Keyes amended "You've all been briefed on the general outline of Red Flag. Specific details have been kept from you for security reasons. But now that we're underway, it's time for you to know the rest."

The captain gave the ONI lieutenant a nod to proceed.

"Thank you, Captain. Commander. Major..." The lieutenant said as he tipped his head in greetings before turning to the holotank. "And Cortana."

The blue AI smiled. "That's better."

"I'm Lieutenant Elias Haverson, ONI Section I. I'll be your ONI attache for the duration of this mission."

The room darkened and the holotank at the center of the table projected an image of the galaxy. It quickly zoomed in onto the Orion arm to a region of space that was labeled simply as Sector 259.

"This is our current destination. Sector 259 is where we believe that we can ambush a Covenant warship for our purposes."

The map zoomed in again into a five planet star system. The first two were hot gas giants. The middle one was a small rocky planetoid. The fourth was a smaller cold gas giant and the final one was a icy ball that was probably a captured comet. Several fairly sizable space stations were present with a few Covenant ships docking with them.

"The Caria system, as we've designated it for now, is a Covenant supply point that rests roughly two hundred light years away from our pre-war borders. We suspect that it had been used during the initial campaign against Harvest, though it has fallen mostly into disuse as it is a fair distance away from current engagements. Nonetheless, it still sees some decent traffic as the smaller gas giant presents an attractive deuterium and tritium mine. Covenant starships still swing by to refuel."

"How did ONI come by this information?" Keyes questioned.

"There's a reason why Red Flag took eighteen months to prepare, and it wasn't because the _Autumn_ took that long to refit. ONI prowlers have been trailing Covenant supply ships to find suitable targets for us." Haverson replied.

So they're to take over a Covenant supply ship? It does make a lot of sense on the face of it. Rather than taking on a heavily armed Covenant warship, a simple supply ship would be comparatively easy to board and take over. But can they really bluff their way into the heart of the Covenant empire in a freighter? John tried to imagine Covenant trying to bluff their way to Earth. There would be so many queries, searches, and inspections that it would be impossible. John was sure that the Covenant would have at least some facsimile.

"Lieutenant." John raised.

"Yes, Commander."

"I don't think that a Covenant freighter would suit our needs. I doubt that we would get too far without the Covenant asking too many questions."

"Indeed," Haverson replied. "Which is why capturing a Covenant supply ship is only step one of our plan. Once we take over a freighter, we will use it as bait to lure in a Covenant warship. We will use the captured freighter as our Trojan Horse to infiltrate the warship."

John nodded in satisfaction.

A flash of light from another holotank interrupted the lieutenant. Out of the corner of his vision, John saw Cortana's holographic form almost forming a snarl at the forming image. When it finally became coherent, John saw another AI avatar, this time of a British field marshal from the Napoleonic era complete with a bicorn hat and a pipe in hand. Getting a better look at his face, the Spartan recognized him as Arthur Wellesly, the 1st Duke of Wellington and victor over Napoleon Bonaparte at Waterloo.

"A bloody brilliant idea, I dare say." The new AI began in a refined English accent. "Oh, it reminds of that time in Salamanca when I..."

"Oh can your trap, Wellesly." Cortana shouted. "I don't want to hear about the damn Peninsula Campaign again. And you're not even suppose to be here!"

"Watch your language, young lady. Oh what is the world coming to? Don't they teach the proper manners of an English lady in this da..."

Wellesly suddenly grimaced in shock. He spoke again, but no audio came from his holotank. Cortana grinned as she sat cross-legged on thin air.

"Much better, don't you agree?"

The captain sighed. "Gentlemen, meet Wellesly, our second shipboard AI. His job is to help us with ship operations while Cortana is with the Commander." Keyes turned to the two AIs. "Cortana, would you mind?"

"Pleeeease?" she begged. Keyes simply shook his head.

"Oh, fine." she pouted.

"... know you can hear me, Cortana. You... oh, that's better." the male AI turned to the three humans.

"Let him stay and hear what the lieutenant has to say, Cortana. It could be useful for Wellesly to know the plan while you're off with the Commander."

At that, Wellesly simply smirked and let Cortana sulk.

"Right. Continuing on." Haverson commented. "Colonel Yang has arranged for a rendezvous with a UNSC task force at sector 197 to resupply and to return all technologies and intelligence of immediate value. All further plans after that is at your discretion, Captain."

Keyes nodded "Cortana, what is our ETA to the Caria system."

"At best velocity, we could make it to Caria in twenty three days and five hours, give or take a few hours for slipstream temporal dilation." The AI replied.

"We do, however, have a secondary objective as well." Haverson resumed.

The holographic image changed to a surveillance video of one of the cargo bays. The bay was empty save for one very large spherical object that was almost as big as a scorpion tank.

"This is Mk1 Nova Bomb. It is Colonel Yang's deadliest invention yet. The entire holhraum is a sandwich of high explosives, fissile material, lithium deuteride, a reflective external tamper, and a fissile inner tamper. An inertial dampener overcharges to give a momentary burst of inertial containment to boost fission efficiency. When it detonates, the Nova creates a uniformed implosion that hyper-compresses the lithium deuteride and plutonium core into near degenerate matter density that forces a near ninety percent fusion and fission rate. The core actually fuses from light elements all the way to plutonium only to fission again in a nanosecond, merging its output with the initial thermonuclear detonation to achieve a near seventy three percent matter-energy conversion rate."

A seventy three percent matter-energy conversion rate? Even the most power conventional thermonuclear device can only achieve an efficiency rate somewhere in the lower twenties. Only a matter-antimatter reaction could beat that efficiency rate.

"What is the yield?" Keyes inquired.

"Estimation during the one time we tested it was roughly 219 gigatons. I hope that you can understand why it is as highly classified as it is and why Colonel Yang didn't brief you on this. The Nova is capable of singlehandedly rendering garden worlds uninhabitable as well as delivering massive direct damage. We plan to use them against the Covenant as giant space mines and for strategic bombardment, as you can infer from its on board stealth system. Normally, it would require the direct authorization of a rear admiral to use. However, HighCom has grant you, Captain, special dispensation to deploy the Nova as you see fit on any targets of opportunity. We have to show the Covenant that we can hit them as hard as they've hit us."

"Now, wait wait wait." Major Silva interjected with both his hands raised and his tone impertinent. "This is all good and well. But I fail to see how any of this has any direct involvement of me and my men."

"I thought it would be obvious, sir." Haverson responded coolly. "All marine combat elements aboard shall serve as the operational supplement to Commander-117 and his Spartans."

Silva snorted with indignity. John didn't like where this is going. Admittedly, he should have seen this coming and he mentally kicked himself for not planning ahead.

"Bullshit, lieutenant. ODSTs don't play second fiddle to anyone." The major turned to Captain Keyes. "Sir, me and my men can pull this op off by ourselves. This is exactly the type of mission we're trained for. We don't need help from..."

He glanced venomously towards John. "... them."

The captain sighed at his upstart subordinate. "Request denied, Major. This is a joint operation and command of all infantry elements belongs the Commander. Both forces will be committed. The operation will have a much better chance of success with both the ODSTs and the Spartans in action together."

"With all due respect, Sir, you're wrong. You can't..."

"I don't think so!" Captain Keyes asserted. "I know full well what the Spartans can do and what your men can do. You will cooperate with the Commander or I'll have you thrown in the brig for the duration of this mission. Now I'm not asking you to change your beliefs, but you will stow that pigheaded rivalry away. Is that clear, Major?"

The ODST relaxed slightly, his demeanor still defiant but contained. "Yes, sir."

"Good." Keyes turned to Haverson. "Is there anything else that we should know, Lieutenant?"

"Nothing of concern, Captain."

Keyes stood up from this seat. "Very well, then. Dismissed, ladies and gentlemen." The two AIs flashed away and the four men left for the door. Just as Silva was about to exit the room, the ODST turned to face John.

"This isn't over, you hear me?"

Before John could respond, Silva stomped off. The confused Spartan wondered on what just happened. That was clearly more than inter-organizational rivalry. It was personal. John was certain that he had never met Silva before. What did he do to earn his slight?

"Commander?" Keyes called from behind."If you don't mind, I'd like to have a word with you."

"Of course, Sir."

"How are your Spartans doing on board?"

"We are still moving equipment and cargo for the most part. We're still familiarizing ourselves with the new armors."

The captain chuckled. "Yes. I've noticed that Colonel Yang has a tendency to leave people with a lot of homework. But is there anything of concern with the crew?"

"Nothing so far, Sir. The ship's personnel have been very cooperative. We haven't had any problems or incidents. Until just now, that is."

Keyes smiled warmly. He seemed much more relaxed. "I'll make sure to keep Silva out of your hair."

Why was the captain being so friendly to him? The answer was obvious: Keyes had already said that he knew John from the past. But try as he might, John could not recall ever meeting the captain.

He couldn't resist asking.

"If I may ask, Sir, you mentioned before that we've met long ago."

The captain raised his eyebrow. "You really don't remember, do you?"

John simply shook his head slightly. An awkward silence hung in the air for a few moments.

"Well, I suppose that it doesn't hurt for you to know now." Keyes continued. "But I do have other matters that I have to attend to. How about we discuss this tonight at dinner at1800 hours in the officer's mess?"

"That would be fine, Sir."

"Good. I'll be looking for to that, Commander."

The captain left. With the briefing room to himself, John wondered what to do next. Twenty three days is a long time for a Spartan in slipspace. Several plans came to mind. Perhaps he should finally get to know the new Spartan-IVs. The rest of the IIs had that chance when they got on board, though John himself had been stuck with the paperwork and logistics. Maybe settling whatever issues Silva had with him would be good idea. Another flash of light from the holotank interrupted his train of thought.

"You, my Spartan, look lost and confused even through that armor." Cortana commented.

"Is there something I can do for you, Cortana?" John began.

"I just wanted to see what you were doing. We should be getting to know each other if we're to work together." She said matter-of-factly.

The Spartan didn't look convinced.

"Alright, I'm bored. I don't have anything to do. Can't you cut a girl a break?"

"Don't have anything to do?" The commander asked incredulously. "This ship must have tens of thousands of operations that could use your involvement?"

"Yes, and they all take up less than one ten thousandth of my processing capacity. I need something of interest, not just busy work."

John narrowed his eyes. Call it instinct, but somehow John knew from the moment he met the AI that she was gossiper and a wisecracking motormouth.

"Oh, come on! If you don't feel like answering questions, you could be the one asking them."

Of the many talents that a Spartan possesses, small talks are certainly not one of them. But seeing that she wasn't going away, John decided to humor her.

"Alright." John began. Cortana's holographic form instantly perked up. After a few moments of thought, John continued. "Tell me why you acted the way you did to Colonel Yang."

"Oh please." the AI brushed off. "You make it sound like I was trying to cut the Colonel to pieces or something. All I did was to present the truth and to say what I knew that mother wouldn't say."

"Mother?" John asked in a confused tone. He had never heard of an AI refer to its creator as a child would his or her parents.

"Well, yes. Doctor Halsey is my mother in every sense of the word. I'm quite literally a product of her mind. It's a long story. I'll tell you sometime. As for the Colonel, don't forget that I made him laugh."

Well, he'll give her that. It was quite a sight to see Colonel's aura of well deserve swaggering confidence break into a belly laugh. Still, silence hung in the air for a few moments as John was absolutely confused on what to actually talk to Cortana about.

"Okay. Okay. I get it. There's just not that much to talk about as you're the strong silent type. So how about I spice things up. I know something that I'm sure that you're desperate to know."

"And what would that be?"

Cortana smiled like a predator cornering her prey. "Every little piece of information on the Spartan program after the IIs. I got it right before we left Reach."

Immediately, John's full attention snapped onto those words. Ever since John had heard Colonel Yang mentioned the phrase 'Spartan-IVs', he had been itching to learn more about his new brethren. The ONI dossiers that Doctor Halsey had given him on the IVs involved in this mission were characteristically sparse on details that weren't mission critical.

"I thought those files were classified."

"Hmm." Cortana looked towards her holographic hands in an almost whimsical manner. "I must have overlooked that."

"You shouldn't have done that."

"Oh, come on, Commander. You're going to be working with the IVs. That information was bound to come across to you eventually. I'm just speeding up the process. And all you have to do is ask."

Cortana was right. HighCom must have known that the information was bound to come to him eventually since he was working with a bunch of Spartan-IVs. Why bother waiting? However, there was still a part of John's mind that recoiled at the thought of taking classified information that he hadn't been cleared to know. These two impulses now threatened to split his mind in half.

Somehow, Cortana seemed as if she could see the internal struggle within her own Spartan. With what can only be described as a checkmating smile, she unleashed her coup de grace.

"Should I mention that I have the files on the Spartan-IIIs?"

At that, the last resistance in John snapped. He had to know right now.

"Alright, Cortana. Tell me what you know about the Spartan-IIIs and IVs."


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer: I can't believe that this still has to be said, but Halo is all 343 Industry's. Any attempts to sue the author will net you at most one of my doomsday devices (Go ahead and take, I have more!) **

******A/N: First, an advance apology to Team Fortress 2. You'll see.  
**

******And as always, my deepest appreciation for my betas, Tikigod and vrbtny. They help make this story possible (and having some semblance to English instead of lower Slobovian).**

* * *

"_In a group as big as the 822__nd__, you're bound to get a few bad apples, black sheep, or whatever you like to call them. In the case of Spearhead, they're the biggest bunch of misfits, miscreants, and psychopaths you'll ever find in Mjolnir armor." - Cortana._

* * *

"Aha. Now that wasn't so hard, was it?" Cortana said.

The commander simply sighed. "You know, you don't have to make this harder than it already is."

"Oh relax." The AI consoled. "What is HighCom going to do? Court martial you? Please, don't make me laugh."

"It's not the punishment of violation that I care about, Cortana." The Spartan crossed his arms over his chest. "It's the fact that I'm violating the good faith of my superiors."

At that, Cortana simply giggled.

"Well, aren't you the straight shooter? Mother was right. You may be Spartan-117 himself, but deep down you really are still that little boy that mother found in Elysium City. Well, if it makes you feel any better, I should let you know that I found a very intriguing Trojan software in the files."

John wasn't surprised at the least. It was well known that ONI often bug their files to make the lives of intelligence miners a living hell. "It hasn't compromised you, has it?"

"Oh, please." Cortana snorted. "Remember who it is that you're talking to. A little Trojan isn't going to hurt me. It was the Trojan's function that stood out. It wasn't malware, surprisingly. It was so simple that a first year cadet could have cracked it. But it began to query me about simple facts of history. When the Rus' tribes converted to Orthodox Christianity and who diplomatically stiffed Chinese Premier Zhou Enlai in Vienna, for example."

Although John had been given some basic training in software cracking, he was by no means an expert. He was a soldier and a tactician, however, and he could see a plan here.

"Whoever inserted the Trojan knew that you could take it apart on a whim, so they decided to entice you to play out the program instead of simply destroying it." The Spartan summed.

The AI looked surprised at John's near instantaneous deconstruction of her tale. Her holographic eyes narrowed on the Spartan. "Shush, you. But seeing as you've already figured out what happened, let me show you what I found."

Another holographic image flickered on next to Cortana. It materialized into an image of Colonel Yang.

"_I knew you couldn't resist. I'm guessing that the Commander is seeing this too. Well, for the purpose of keeping the two of you and Doctor Halsey out of trouble, I've given you two clearance to these files. You two owe me one. And be careful around Cortana, Commander. She's a bad influence on those around her." _

"Cheeky bastard." Cortana commented as the image flickered away.

John, however, thought that Yang had nailed it dead on, but the Spartan simply shook his head. "You could have just shown me this at the beginning."

"Yes I could have." Cortana replied matter-of-factly. "But I wanted to see if I could get you to loosen up a bit."

"Loosen up?" John's head tilted in confusion. "Cortana, we are on a mission that will decide the fate of all humanity."

"Yes, a matter second to none on the scale of seriousness. But here we are in slipspace with twenty eight days of free time."

"We need all the time that we have to prepare." John responded without hesitation

The exasperated AI brought her ghostly hand up to her eyebrows. "He just doesn't get it, does he?" She asked rhetorically and let out a heavy sigh. "Let's just move on, shall we?"

The Spartan nodded.

* * *

Six hundred Spartans dead.

John felt a chill down his spine. He had already lost so many Spartans, some before they even had a chance to fight, but even he found difficult to wrap his mind around losing that many more. He didn't know any of them, but they were Spartans nonetheless. Still, Mendez taught him that losing lives were acceptable so long as they had been spent wisely instead of wasted.

"Did it work?"

"No, not really." Cortana responded. "The IIIs accomplished their tactical objectives, but the strategic situation remained the same. The covenant march continues unabated. The first battalion had less than ten survivors. Ackerson trained another and used them in the exact same manner with the exact same result. He wanted a third battalion to be trained, but it was clear to everyone by then that the IIIs were a failure. Colonel Yang shut Ackerson down about a month before the son of a bitch died."

_Wasted lives_.

His head dipped and his shoulders slumped. It was hard for any Spartan to hear of their brethren falling, but at least they knew that they have made a worthwhile sacrifice to the great whole of humanity.

But this.

This could have been prevented. It should have been obvious to everyone after the first annihilated Spartan-III battalion that it wasn't working. Instead, they threw good money and lives after bad. John had never met Ackerson - and never will, thankfully- but he now shared Doctor Halsey seething hatred for the man. Mendez had taught him about men like Ackerson: those who were grossly unqualified to hold their respective positions of power. People like that refused to learn from their mistakes or step down for more competent replacements, and ultimately got ever more people killed for no real gain whatsoever. It seemed there was one more name to go down in history with the likes of Alcibiades, Napoleon III, George W. Bush, and their ilk- assuming ONI ever declassifies his misdeeds.

"But there was a good side to the Spartan-III program in that it laid the groundwork for the Spartan-IVs. The methods of the IIIs were wrong, but the schematics, at least, were mostly right. The IIIs had already a 99 percent survival rate for their augmentation process. When Colonel Yang began the IVs, he took Ackerson's research and further improved upon it. The goal was to return to the original idea of the 822nd Spartan Regiment. He wanted to create a force of Spartans that were stronger than the IIIs, but more numerous than the IIs; something capable of sustaining casualties but is not meant to be thrown away."

"How did the Colonel accomplish that."

"Well, you have to understand what kind of person Colonel George Yang is. Part scientist, part soldier, part politician, part economist, and part industrialist. He's a specialist in the practical application of theoretical achievements. Through further refinements of Mjolnir components, deeper study of captured covenant technologies and how they were manufactured, political and financial jostling, and sheer economy of scale, the Colonel managed to bring the cost of Mjolnir down to affordable levels. And while the IVs would be held to a higher genetic and mental standards than the IIIs, he managed to maintain a fairly large pool of candidates by a genetic modification regiment."

"But if that's the case, then why is there a Spartan-IV program to begin with?" John queried "Why didn't they simply draw manpower from the marines?"

"That's because genetic augmentation have limits. You can't just go changing gene sequences at will. Most gene sequences often perform multiple functions that vital to the body. You shut those down to change them and you kill the person. Only from the first phases of pregnancy and gestation before developed bodily systems have grown could you do that. But you could perform limited genetic augmentations on a full human body if you know what not to target. There are still some pretty substantial limits. But a good sixth of the human population already have eighty to ninety percent of the required genetic markers and can accept the genetic augmentation without permanent side effects. That's well over a three thousand fold increase in the numbers of Spartan candidates. Add that to the advances in the physical augmentation procedures from the III program and we have a Spartan-IV program that can field a large operational scale formation."

John liked what he heard. The Spartan-IVs were set to become the true commando force that the IIs were originally planned to be. A part of his mind concluded that it also meant that he and the other Spartan-IIs were technically obsolete.

_No. Not obsolete. We're still fighting. We're still making a difference._

Now another thought on the IVs came to his mind. "You said that the IVs were still somewhat inferior. How so?"

"Well, it's really a question of expectations rather than results, of nature vs nurture. Some people are genetically predisposed to certain actions or capabilities like physical endurance, night vision, and the like. But they still can't perform those tasks for one reason or another during their development whether it be mental or physical. To a limited extent, the reverse is true as well as the human body and mind adapts to environmental pressures."

John cocked his head in confusion. "I'm still not quite understanding you here."

"It means that although the standard deviation of the capabilities of the Spartan-IVs fall below those of the IIs, there are a small number of IVs that for one reason or another can match IIs."

Now he understood. While the quality of the IIs were mostly uniform, there were small but critical difference in capabilities among the IVs.

"So how many Spartan in total are there?" John asked.

"With the IIs now folded into the 822nd, 1473 in active duty and another 600 in training. Each of its five active battalions are around roughly 300 strong."

John couldn't help but smile at that number. It seemed overstrengthed for a regiment, but there were historical cases of special forces regiments like the former American Army Rangers and the former British Special Air Service that were overstrengthed on paper, but never actually fought together in one giant formation.

"This capability rating is important to our current mission, actually." The AI continued. "Our two teams of Spartan-IVs are curiously on the opposite ends of the spectrum."

The Commander instantly suspected which team was on which end of the spectrum. Though he haven't seen as much of Noble Team as he would prefer, he liked what he saw. They were clean and crisp, the movements graceful and fast, and their attention sharp. And Jorge personally vouched for them; that alone was good enough for John.

Spearhead, on the other hand...

They seemed overly relaxed and somewhat undisciplined. The almost whimsical demeanor of Steven-666 left John with a bad impression on the rest of the Spearheads despite John's best attempt to not judge them by their cover. Jorge's hesitation to talk about them also came to mind. And that overly large Spartan, Wa-514. John couldn't put it into words, but there was something about that particular Spartan that gave John some very bad vibes.

"Let me guess. Noble team is on the top of the rating." John ventured.

"Um hmm." Cortana affirmed. The AI placed a hand on her holographic hips. "Noble Team is the premier team of the IVs and are rated to be the same as you Spartan-IIs. Their physical qualifications are exactly the same as yours. Their mental and emotional fortitude, with the slight exception of the assault expert Emile-239, are your equal. Their newest member, 312, has stats and records that are very similar to your own, actually."

"And Spearhead?" John's tone made him seem almost hesitant to learn of the other team.

"Ah, yes." Cortana hologram rolled her eyes. "Them."

"Let me take another guess: they aren't rated that highly, are they?"

"Well, that's a bit of an understatement. Spearhead is something else no matter how you look at them. But remember that the statistics often give false conclusions, especially when the human factor is taken into account."

That sounded like a rationalization. John hated rationalizations.

"In a group as big as the 822nd, you're bound to get a few bad apples, black sheep, or whatever you like to call them. In the case of Spearhead, they're the biggest bunch of misfits, miscreants, and psychopaths you'll ever find in Mjolnir armor. Each of them are insubordinate in one way or another and should have washed out of the program long ago for a whole litany of reasons. But they've demonstrated themselves to be a force to be reckoned with on the battlefield. Whereas Noble is fully trained and equipped for missions that require brute force and subtlety, Spearhead is made for one mission and one mission only: to take the covenant head on as loudly and conspicuously as possible. Completely lacking in stealth or subtlety, they excel in direct confrontations and have the body count to prove it."

He should have seen this coming. Spearhead had an air about them of being more brawlers than soldiers.

"So, do you want to hear the real juicy stuff on each and every one of them?"

* * *

The hangar bay was filled with busy mechanics and technicians maintaining the ship's compliment of Pelicans, Longswords, and Sabers. John had to pause his stride several times to let the trolleys and moving cargo pass by. One of the massive deck elevators lifted a quartet of warthogs fitted with a 20mm augmented helical rail autocannons, a present from Colonel Yang that the Spartans had discovered on board. Leaving the vehicles aside, John returned to his mission to meet the last member of Noble Team that he had yet to meet.

Taking another look around, John found what, and who, he was looking for. A single Saber near the end of the bay was being worked on by just a single person lying underneath the airframe. That person, however, was encased in Mjolnir armor. The Saber itself was also unique. It was paint jet black with the numbers 312 printed in white next to the cockpit. There were also several dozen symbols of ovular rings with a dot in the bottom right and top left, classic kill counters for fighter pilots. The engine exhaust seemed to be bigger than normal. Most eye catching though was a pulse energy cannon mounted right underneath the nose. It was mostly the same as the SM-4 Pulse Energy Cannon that the Spartans had been issued, though it was clearly larger and probably significantly more powerful.

The dossier noted that Noble Team's newest member was an accomplished pilot and a decent mechanic. Cortana's digging had shown that Noble Six was also Colonel Yang's best Spartan and had been his primary tester of his newest weapons for years. It also noted that Six had a history of solo engagements and a have a tendency to go lone wolf even when back up is available.

The Spartan caught sight of his visitor and stood to attention.

"Commander." Noble Six addressed John as he saluted his superior.

John returned the salute. "At ease, lieutenant. I'm just here to introduce myself and to look around."

Six relaxed his stance. John took another good look at the modified Saber.

"I've been told that you're a fine pilot."

"I don't like to brag, but most people that have seen me fly seem to think so. Colonel Yang certainly does; it gives me first shot at anything and everything that comes out of his lab."

John chuckled slightly and Six respectfully dipped his head. The commander felt a unique camaraderie with this Spartan that only comes from being the favorite of their creators. Every time Doctor Halsey came out with a new improvement for their armor, John always had first shot. They were both expected to be the shining example for their comrades to follow.

"I may be a Spartan, Sir, but I belong in a cockpit. Before I joined up with Noble Team back when I was still going solo, I was testing Colonel Yang's newest toys. It was probably the best job in the whole UNDF."

"Actually, that was what I wanted to talk to you about." John mentioned.

Six sighed. "I assume you mean my thus far career of going solo. The Colonel mentioned that you might have a problem with that."

"Then I trust that you understand why I'm bringing it up?"

"Aye, sir. Lt Cmdr Carter already brought that up to me before. It won't be a problem, Sir."

John smiled underneath his helmet. This was easier than he expected. He honestly liked 312. There was one question, however, that was nagging on his mind.

"When I looked at your CSV, I noticed that it always referred to you by your numerical designation. Your name was nowhere to be seen on it."

"Ah, that." It sounded like Six have had this conversation too many times as it is. "That's because I never had one."

"You've never had a name?"

"No." Six replied almost too casually. "When Colonel Yang took me into the program, he didn't have to arrange for a cover story. He just literally adopted me from the orphanage on Earth."

John had known that Six was Earthborn, but not that he was an orphan. Some small shred of John who still had some vague memories of his life before the Spartan program felt some small sympathy for 312. It was odd to say the least.

"You haven't decided on a name?" John asked.

"312 works just fine for me, Sir. Or Six. Some of the pilots I've worked with tried to call me Manfred after the Red Baron, even. But the first two I prefer."

John nodded, respecting the younger Spartan's wish.

"Alright, Six. Now why don't you show me what kind of modifications you have on this Saber."

* * *

It was mid-day time by now, so the showers were entirely empty. The Commander came here looking for the first member of Spearhead team that he would meet: Steven-666, the team's sharpshooter. Cortana described Steven be the most flamboyant of the Spearheads, but John felt as though the AI was deliberately withholding some information for her own amusement.

From what Cortana told him, Steven had been in the shower for a good twenty minutes before John had arrived. While that was by Spartan standards an obscene amount of time to spend in the showers, the Commander was not without compassion. For the excessive amount of time they spend in their armor, a good hot shower was a luxury for any Spartan. He might as well let Steven enjoy his time.

That was his reasoning twenty minutes ago.

Finally, the irritated Spartan heard the shower turning off and the slightest hint of footsteps in the locker room. From the staccato of the steps, there was more than one person in there, and judging by the distinctly feminine giggling he was hearing, he realized what had taken Steven so long.

John facepalmed, a spectacular display of emotion by Spartan standards. Cortana _had_ warned him ahead of time. Still, such concepts were decidedly foreign to a soldier who spent most of their time in armor.

Sure enough, the Spearhead that John had been looking for walked through the door donned in fatigues and had in his arms two very content looking female crewmen.

Ensign Steven-666, the sharpshooter of Spearhead team and the only Spartan alive to have an active libido. The Spartan-IV had blonde hair that was longer than regulation and steel gray eyes. He seemed to have a perpetual scoundrel's grin plastered on his face, something that the two ladies seem to enjoy. John's sharp eyes caught sight of a scar right around Steven's Adam's apple.

The three lovers finally caught sight of the Commander. The two ladies came to attention, but Steven merely dropped his arms from their shoulders.

"Ah, Commander. Didn't expect to see you there." Steven turned to his two friends. "Excuse me ladies, but duty calls."

The two women turned to John with guilty looks.

"Dismissed, crewmen!" John declared. The two women quickly fled. He should probably throw the book at them, but John _really _did not want to deal with this.

A few moments of silence passed as John waited for Steven to come up with an excuse to defend his behavior.. For his part, Steven seemed a little incredulous that there was any problems with his activities in the first place.

"What? I'm not breaking any regulations. The two fine ladies were navy and you and I are NavSpecWar."

That was technically true. There was no infraction so far as the regulations go; as they were the elite special forces branch, NavSpecWar tended to rely more on unwritten expectations than explicit regulations. That's the official excuse anyway; most informed people know that it's simply one of the privileges accorded to the UNDF's commando forces. But a true Spartan holds himself or herself to a much higher standard regardless. However, John decided to drop the matter for now. He'd rather leave this matter up to Spearhead's leader, Nicole-458.

"I'm trying to get to know the members of Spearhead, though would you prefer that I come back later?" John asked sarcastically.

"Nah. I got some time to burn before my next appointment at 1700 anyway."

John could guess what that 'appointment' is, but decided to let the matter drop. The two Spartans slowly walked towards the bunks that the other were at.

"I've been told that you're the sniper of the team."

"I wouldn't call myself a sniper, Sir.A sniper hides and let's the artillery do the work most of the time. The _Loudenboomer _and me aren't meant for that role. I'm more along the line of a rapid sharpshooter. There's a reason why I hold the record for the mad minute."

Ah, yes. The mad minute was something that John recalled fondly. It was an informal shooting competition between members of the UNDF that had its roots in the former British Army. Espousing a doctrine of rapid marksmanship, the average British Tommy was required to pull off fifteen aimed shots at three hundred meters in sixty seconds with their bolt action Lee-Enflied SMLE rifle. Most veteran British soldiers could pull off well beyond that. The UNMC updated the tradition to account for automatic weapons. To qualify for the competition, the candidate must pull off at least twenty five aimed shots at four hundred meters. It was no simple matter as the targets often varied in range from one extreme to another to increase the difficulty. The Spartans, however, took the exercise up to a new level. A Spartan Mad Minute required thirty five aimed shots at six hundred meters with targets varying right up to a hundred meters; obviously, misses were rare but severely penalized. John's own record was forty two. During the matches between the Spartans, it always wound up boiling down to Linda and Kelly because of the former's natural marksmanship and the latter's raw speed and reaction time; as he recalled, their last contest ended with Linda holding ahead at fifty seven. All fun aside, though, there was a real application of the mad minute training. The sheer amount of precision fire that the Spartans and marines could put out makes them nearly invincible at mid to long range shoot outs with the covenant.

"What's your record?"

The scoundrel Spartan curled his lips. "Sixty four plinks at 600m, Sir."

The two arrived at the bunks. Around them, the other Spartans were going about their preparations. Fred, however, was sparring with Emile. The two were dueling with combat knives and the elder Spartan was giving his opponent a run for his money.

Then the sharp smell of something unfamiliar caught the Commander's attention. No, he amended. Not unfamiliar, but vaguely familiar. It was musky & hinted of paper. John turned his head and found its source: a fairly sizable crate that Steven had pulled from underneath his bunk that the Spearhead sharpshooter was pillaging. In it, John spotted a collection of fine tobacco and hashish that the naval and marine personnel on board would have killed for. Steven produced a box of Sweet Williams cigars, the same that Mendez had been so fond of years ago. He took a cigar out of the box and took a deep sniff.

"Maybe later."

He put the cigars away and took out a blunt filled with hashish. Steven quickly lit it up and took a deep hit. 666 dug deeper into the crate and the Spartan-IV produced a weirdly shaped ivory ashtray. It looked like it was carved from something and it's elongated half oval shape was vaguely familiar to John. Going back into the crate again, took out a bottle of whiskey, cackling as he poured himself a shot. Steven seemed completely oblivious to the Commander's presence for a whole minute until he finally caught John staring at him.

"Oh, where are my manners?" Steven noted. He took out another shot glass and poured one for John. Not stopping there, he readied a cigar.

"A smoke and a shot?"

It took a few conspicuously silent moments before John could respond.

"Spartans aren't supposed to smoke." John stated in a eerily calm tone. "They're not suppose to drink either."

Steven looked confused. "Your point, sir?"

"I need everyone at a hundred percent."

At that, Steven had a good laugh to himself. "Well, to quote Winston Churchill, you may neither drink nor smoke and be at a hundred percent, but I both drink and smoke and I'm two hundred percent."

Every fiber in the Commander wanted to do something to put Steven in his place, but the logical part of his mind noted that because Steven hasn't actually violated any NavSpecWar regulations regarding contrabands. Everything he had here was technically legal in respect to those loose rules. Seeing the futility of trying to argue the moral standard of which a Spartan is expected to hold himself or herself to, John simply tried to ignore the spectacle. Still, there was something about that ashtray that was nagging on his mind. John could swear that he had seen it, or at least a part of it, somewhere before.

"That ashtray." John pointed at the object. "Where did you get it?"

"Oh, that thing." Steven snuffed out the blunt and set it aside while clearing the ashtray before handing it to the Commander. "Funny you asked, sir. Quite a story behind that ashtray."

John inspected the object. It was clearly organic in origin, most likely bone or ivory of some sort. He inspected some of the grooves and valleys in its surface. Its shape was tantalization familiar. Rotating it halfway, John noticed scratches and scars on the bottom. And then it finally hit him.

"Is this a Covenant elite's skull."

Steven chuckled at John's realization. "Well, what the part that I could save. I aimed a little far forward that time, not that I had a choice at the time. But that thing is related to this"

Steven pointed at the prominent scar at the front of his throat.

"Have you heard of the engagement at Novaya Pskov three years back?"

"Yes, I recall." John replied. "That engagement was pretty well publicized. It was a winter engagement, blizzard conditions in arctic terrain. The Covenant landed an entire corp around the capital city and invested it. A team of Spartans blunted their attack and led a breakout that relieved the city."

"Oh yeah. And that team of Spartans was us Spearheads. I was detached from the rest of the team to help hold the northern highland while the others punch through in the south. The covenant launched an entire regiment to slip in through the forest. The place was so big that we didn't have enough men to properly hold the line. So I decided to launch a spoiling attack."

John remembered that particular story. It was a massacre. The forest was simply too big and too thick to blast through without starship support which the covenant ground forces didn't have at that time. The covenant found themselves funneled into the few passable roads that made them easy targets. Completely unprepared for the environment, most of the covenant simply froze to death as they were driven back by UNDF ski troops over the course of three days. The most prominent part of that story was a single Spartan sniper that wiped out an entire battalion by himself.

"That sniper was you."

"Yep." Steven responded with pride. "They kept coming and I kept falling back, picking them off as I went." The Spartan-IV chuckled as he reminisced. "You have no idea how pissed off they were at me. But here's the part of the story you don't know. The last day when we pushed them out of the forest, the covenant forces in the north decided that if they're going down, they'd at least take me with them. They disengaged in all the other sectors and threw everything they had left at me. And one of those bastards finally nailed me right in the throat. He took me down, but not before I took his face off."

Steven took his trophy back from John and lit up the blunt again.

"Guess who got the last laugh." He tapped off some ash into the tray. "But the really funny thing is what that son of a bitch hit."

After a few moments of thought, John finally saw the real reason why Steven brought this story up. "He got you in the thyroid and destroyed the implant. That's how you have a sex drive."

"Oh yeah! Turned out that I should be thanking that bastard after all."

* * *

"Watch your step!"

The warning came almost too late for John. Looking down, John's heart leaped to his throat. He had almost stepped on a partially disassembled Lotus anti-tank mine. Taking a good look through the door into the machine shop, the Commander counted at least two hundred kilos worth explosives of all sort. C-12, C-8 foam, Triethylaluminum, white phosphorous, chemical propellants, powdered aluminum, propylene oxide, ammonium nitrate, potassium chloride, detonation cord, frangible pyrophoric explosive pellets, 105mm rockets, 120mm mortar shells; the list goes on. Everything and anything that can explode in the UNDF conventional ground arsenal was on display, taking up almost every single square centimeter of the floor.

There was enough high explosives here to take out an entire covenant legion.

John carefully tipped toed his way through the virtual minefield in front of him despite his instincts screaming otherwise. On the other side of the shop, Jonathan-665 shut the mill off and placed the tube to the side. The Spartan-IV was not in his armor, wearing simple fatigues.

The first thing that John noticed was that he really was nearly indistinguishable from his twin, Steven-666, save the different battle scars. Like the sharpshooting Spearhead, Jonathan-665 had slightly longer than regulation blonde hair with steel gray eyes. But it was those eyes that caught John's attention. There is, for a lack of a better term, a madness behind them as if Jonathan is clinically hysterical. The crooked smile didn't help either. Somehow, John thought that it was almost fitting for this motley crew's grenadier, demolitionist, and avowed pyromaniac.

"Sorry, Commander. I didn't expect anyone to see me for the next few hours."Jonathan began. "So what can I do for you?"

The commander took a few more moments surveying the shop. Not one of the many explosives here had been properly secured. One single spark, one wayward pinch of potassium chloride, one errant twitch, and this entire section of the _Autumn_ would be gone.

"How has none of this gone off yet?" John deadpanned.

The commander didn't think that it was possible for a Spartan, but Jonathan simply giggled maniacally.

"Yes, that is quite a mystery, isn't it? But I'd appreciate you not jinxing it. Otherwise, it'll be the last thought you'll ever have."

Well, he had a point. And as much as John loathed to admit it, Jonathan did have a record of being a most competent demolitionist, grenadier, and all around explosive expert, provided that one dismissed the 200 kilos of exposed explosives at their feet. And as Grace told him once a long time ago, it's easy to rate a demolitionist on a one to ten scale.

Just count how many fingers are still left.

"Do you actually bring all of this onto the battlefield?" The Spartan CO asked incredulously.

Jonathan nodded enthusiastically. "Yep. Yep. Us Spearheads don't believe in calling in artillery support. We prefer to bring our own."

Jonathan picked up one of his contraptions from the floor and handed to the Commander. It was tubular device with a 120mm mortar shell at the front. Looking at the back, the tube was packed with propellant. Finally, there was a basic flip up sight and an electrical trigger. It was heavy by marine standards, a good twenty five kilos or so, but not too heavy for Spartans.

"It looks like an old Wehrmacht panzerfaust." John said.

"That's because it is a panzerfaust. Well, our version anyway. It's my homemade 120mm recoilless launcher with a 20 kg payload and a half kilometer range."

Before John could say anything about how suicidal it was to use something that powerful that close, Jonathan picked up another one of his explosive devices. It was a stick grenade of some sort. It weighed a good four kilos. The top charge was as much one would expect. The handle, however, threw John off for a moment. It was made of ferric steel, an unnecessary material as it made the device heavier and there were other lighter substitutes. Opening the bottom of the stick, he found out why.

It wasn't just a handle.

"Is the handle a pipe bomb?"

"Yep." Jonathan replied in between his maniacal giggles. "It's a bomb, attached to another bomb! And I got a lot more to show you, Commander. Grab a seat."

* * *

The aft cargo bay was hardly the place John expected to find his next Spearhead. This was the biggest cargo bay on the ship, cavernous enough to hear echos. It was packed crates holding all sorts of equipment, parts, and provisions. Cranes mounted on ceiling rails did the heavy lifting, though they were inactive at the moment.

A flash of movement almost too quick for John to catch turned his sight to the far end of the bay. Amid the tallest stack, a single figure was bouncing back and forth between the walls and the crates, scaling them in the same manner a pin ball bounces around. There were hardly any surfaces or outcroppings that the person could grip onto, yet he was ascending nonetheless. Another thing John noticed was that he was damn fast. Kelly was faster, but not by much.

The man finally made it to the top and turned around, giving John a good look at his features. He look... Mediterranean, for the lack of a better term. Dark glossy hair with a slight brownish tint with brown eyes and olive tan skin.

The man noticed John standing near the entrance.

"One minute, Commander."

With that, he leaped from the top. It was a good sixty meter drop, but the man somersaulted as he hit ground, letting the roll break his fall and coming straight to a stand. He leaped over several more crates with blistering speed before sliding to a halt before John.

Richard-701, the assault specialist of Spearhead. The dossier had noted that he was a speed addict and the fastest of all the Spartan-IVs. A practitioner of Parkour, Richard gained notoriety for his ability to flank his opponents in directions and terrain that were seemingly impassable and unapproachable and outmaneuvering them with his raw speed. John never thought that it was possible to utilize parkour in combat. He knew Kelly had developed a taste for Parkour back during training, but she never used it on the battlefield, dismissing the art as only good for fun.

One thing that he hadn't appreciate, though, was the assessment of his height. He was... short... by Spartan standards at least. He was still well built and taller than the average marine, but it was noticeable nonetheless. John found himself physically looking down on Richard.

Richard seemed to notice John's staring.

"What?" Richard almost growled. "You got something to say?"

Cortana had warned him not to broach the subject of Richard's height. The Spartan-IV was noted to be very confrontational over that issue almost to the point of having a Napoleon complex. Apparently, something was botched during Richard's augmentation, though he survived combat capable and a little shorter.

"Uh, nothing." John replied, not wanting to pull rank or to insult a fellow Spartan. The Spartan-II grasped for anything to change the subject. It was no use, though. Richard was still steaming.

Maybe it would be better to try this again later.

* * *

The smell of incense greeted John as he entered the room. It was dark with only faint candle light guiding his footsteps as he weaved through the crates and bulkheads. In the center of the room, John found the person he was looking for. The massive Wa-514 was kneeling before a small porcelain statue of a female Buddhist figure with three sticks of incense in hand. The massive Spartan began his chant in Chinese, barely audible even to John's Spartan hearing. John was tempted to let his helmet translate what 514 said, but the Commander felt that he had intruded enough and stood in silence for Wa to finish.

Looking around, John spotted something that had been plaguing his mind for the last few days. It was a suit of Mjolnir armor, but it was accordingly massive for its intended user. Unlike the armor that John himself was wearing, it was thickly armored to say the least. Some of the plating was more than twice the normal thickness. There were visible mechanical servos in addition to the hydrostatic layers and electromuscle fibers.

There were to three pieces of equipment on the side that caught John's attention. The first was a large metallic shield that looked like it came from a hunter, but modified for human anatomy and reinforced. The second was one of Colonel Yang's SM-4 pulse energy cannons. The final item was some sort of medium caliber autocannon, 20mm by John's estimation, with a chainsaw grip. It looked like one of the augmented helical rail cannons fitted onto the new warthogs. The weapon had a linkless feed that went into a large metallic pack with two straps obviously meant to go around the shoulders. Finally, there was a thick chain was mounted on the middle and back of the weapon.

So this is what Ensign Wa-514, the Spartan Shock Trooper, brings with him into combat. All of it must weigh at least three tons if not more, almost six times the normal Spartan. How did he even move on the battlefield? John knew for certain that he himself can lift three tons, but not in the middle of a fight. Not even John old departed friend Sam could lug all of this and still be able to shoot back.

"Lights." The shock trooper said. Darkness lifted away as the lights came on. The shock trooper was still kneeling and facing the statue.

Wa-514, the only Spartan Shock Trooper in existence and the heavy gunner of Spearhead. After getting the full story from Cortana, John knew that his instincts about 514 were right. He was the last "product" of Colonel Ackerson, his final sin which had ultimately killed him. In fact, judging by the man's last moments in the video Cortana had provided, "killed" seemed like a bit of an understatement. 514 had _destroyed_ the man. This most troubled member of Spearhead, 514, was probably the only member of the Spartan program that would meet the clinical requirements of being homicidal.

"I sorry, I didn't meant to interrupt." John began.

"But it's finished nonetheless, so it doesn't matter." Wa's monotone response unsettled John a bit.

"What were you doing, aside from the obvious." John inquired. "Who is that figure?"

"Guanyin, the patron saint of kindness and mercy in Buddhist lore. I pray to her to grant mercy to my foes. Because I can't."

_Because he can't, not because he won't._

The shock trooper was certainly a disturbed individual.

514 stood up but still faced away. "Why are you here, Commander?"

"I came to see if what the dossiers say is true." John answered bluntly. "And I'd like some answers?"

"Answers?" Wa inquired in his chilly tone. "To what?"

"Your files before deployment were almost empty. It only mentioned something called Project Typhon. What was Project Typhon? How was Ackerson involved? Why did you kill him?"

The shock trooper finally turned around, his gaze finally fixed on John. Even in his armor, the Spartan-II recoiled slightly, actively resisting the urge to take a defensive stance. Those eyes that had been glazed over in the other times that John had seen him were now filled with a rage and, dare he say, a desire to see him dead. This man before John clearly wanted to kill him. After it was clear that John understood his position, Wa turned away again and gave the Commander his answers.

"Project Typhon was Ackerson's response to the failings of the Spartan-IIIs. He thought that what was needed was a supplement to the IIIs, a small powerful force that they could rally around. That would smash through the covenant lines and to blunt their assaults while leaving the exploitation and consolidation to the IIIs. That was what the Spartan Shock Troopers were meant for."

"I take it that it didn't work out very well." John commented.

"There were seven of us in training. I'm the only one that survived it all."

"How was it different from the Spartan training?"

At that question, 514 grew increasingly enraged. "We shock trooper candidates weren't like you. You haven't even begun puberty when they took you."

"I was 17 when they took us!" The shock trooper snarled "Said they needed more developed bodies. I remember everything! The stories my father told, how my mother's smile look, how my little sister needed my help with her homework. We remembered perfectly what they took from us! But that's exactly what Ackerson wanted, a weakness that he could exploit to break us. You and the rest of them were made to be soldiers, killing for a purpose. Me and the other Shock Trooper candidates, we were trained to kill just to kill. He all but tortured us to make us his rabid pit bulls. He didn't want to control us, he wanted to unleash us."

Wa turned once more to face John. "Tell me. Was your family ever mentioned after your first few weeks of training?"

"No." John replied simply.

"Well ours were mentioned constantly. Ackerson showed us pictures of our families being followed. That's the difference between you and us; if you had caused enough trouble, they would have thrown you out of the program. If we had done that, our families would have had to pay the price."

"And the augmentation?"

"What you went through was nothing compared to what we went through. Your skeleton was reinforced, ours were entirely replaced. Your hearts were enhanced, ours were taken out and every inch of our arteries turned into one giant continuous pump. Backup organs. Multiple redundant regenerative nervous and cardiovascular systems. Synthetic muscle fiber weaves. Blood lock systems. Cerebral nanotube superstructuring. Lung cultivation and augmentation. And finally, genetic augmentation with donations from Neanderthals. All of it to keep us killing for as long as possible."

John was stunned. It didn't seem possible for anyone to survive that many enhancements, if it could be called that. "It doesn't seem possible that for someone to survive that."

"Because it _isn't_ possible!" Wa shouted, turning to face John again. "Ackerson killed us before he started the operations. He brought us back to the land of the living and killed us again over and over until he was finished."

John stayed silent. Despite the fact that Wa still look as though he would rip his throat out, John felt sympathy for this tortured soul.

"He wanted to deploy us along with the second battalion, but it took over a month longer that he anticipated to finish us on the table. We missed the operation. First thing I saw when I woke up and wasn't on the table was his ugly face. Then I thought about what he would look like without his face. Before I even knew what was happening, every one in the room was dead and Ackerson was just a smear on the wall."

John saw that massacre on video thanks to Cortana, though he had wished that he hadn't seen it; it was... gory, to say the least. It was the one file that she managed to get on the shock trooper. As for Wa, he seemed almost giddy at the memory.

"I didn't stop there. I couldn't stop there, not until every one of the fifty seven people on base were dead. A week later, Colonel Yang found me. They got off lucky. It turns out that it's not good for a person to go on a killing spree right after a shock trooper augmentation. They took me to Reach while I was in a coma. When I woke up, he pointed me in the direction of Spearhead and here I am."

So Ackerson wanted a killing machine. It certainly looks like he succeeded. John sighed. As much as he sympathized with Wa, he can't risk deploying someone who has ... aggression problems, to put it lightly.

"So can you control it?"

"To an extent. But I still can't help but want to see everyone I meet inside out and in pieces. Even my own teammates."

"I need a soldier who can follow orders, not a blood drunk mass murderer who could compromise us." John stated bluntly.

"You want me to fight, Commander, I'll fight. You want me to stop, I'll stop... eventually. If you don't want me to fight at all, that's your choice. But in a mission like this, I guarantee that you'll regret it. You've seen my combat record along with the rest of my team, can you honestly tell me that you don't want me to go into the breach with you."

After a few moments of pregnant silence, John responded honestly. "You're right, I do need every Spartan with me. But I won't hesitate to any action necessary to ensure the success of this mission."

At that implied threat, the shock trooper chuckled. "I don't doubt that. Just keep in mind this bit of friendly advice: when the bullets and plasma bolts start flying..." Wa leaned closer and looked John in the eyes. John held his ground and stared back.

"... stay the fuck out of my way."

* * *

"You can do it, Nikki!" Steven shouted.

John slowly made his way to the front of the crowd. In the center of the room on the wrestling mats, Kelly and Nicole-458, the leader of the Spearheads, sparred in front of a growing audience. Both Spartan ladies were out of their armor, wearing black tank tops and gym shorts. Every one of the Spartan-IIs along with all of Noble team and all of Spearhead save the shock trooper were present. Steven was standing more towards the back with a large group of marine and naval personnel with a cigar in hand, apparently accepting bets on the fight.

"Too bad we can't get you in there." Steven said to Kat. "Then we'd have a real cat fight."

Noble two obviously didn't take the pun too well as she kneed him right in the groin.

"Stop thinking with your nuts, Steven."

Ignoring the sight of Steven almost collapsing to the ground, John decided to follow Nicole's progress. The leader of the Spearheads had the looks of a prize fighter. Her raven hair looked like it could touch her shoulders, but it was neatly tied up in a bun. Her chocolate brown eyes had a look of absolute confidence in her abilities. Kelly darted back and forth with breathtaking speed, often feigning and landing a torrent of solid hits; she was not holding back. Nicole, however, stayed on the defensive, blocking most of Kelly's strikes while slowly advancing to back her into a corner.

John was impressed with Nicole. Most people were often overwhelmed with Kelly's speed, but John knew the way to beat her. You couldn't just go on the offensive as Kelly would simply dodge your attacks and strike through your open defenses. Instead, you had to stay on the defensive while restricting her movement. Kelly was the fastest Spartan, but it came at the price of being the physically weakest one of the IIs. Against an experienced grappler with no space to move, Kelly wouldn't stand a chance. It didn't help that her opponent was the premier hand to hand expert of the IVs and had an undefeated record in the ring.

And soon enough, Nicole had Kelly pinned to the ground. The crowd erupted in applause, the IIs simply clapping while the Nobles and Spearhead cheered. Several angry marines in the background had to pay up to Steven, who was still a little weak from Kat's strike. The two combatants shook hands and left the mats. Nicole quickly spotted John.

"Commander." Nicole addressed as she snapped a crisp salute. John eagerly returned the gesture. Nicole was the first Spearhead to address his rank properly, which was quite refreshing after meeting the rest of her team. Going one step further, John offered his hand. She quickly accepted, giving the commander a firm hand shake.

Here was the only 'sane' Spartan in Spearhead. Lieutenant Nicole-458 had a track record that was nearly indistinguishable from the Spartan-IIs. Unlike the rest of the Spearheads, she had no disciplinary problems in her past. Her battle record backed up her reputation as a competent field commander. Of course, this only made John wonder why someone like her was in command of such a dysfunctional team.

"It's an honor to finally meet you, Sir." Nicole continued.

"Likewise." John responded.

"I heard from Steven that you've been going around to meet my team."

"Yes, I have. They're... colorful, to say the least."

At that, Nicole began rubbing her forehead. "I apologize, Sir, if they did anything regrettable in front of you. They're not very adept in making a good first impression. I was hoping that I could introduce you to them myself."

"I have to ask, Lieutenant." John queried, wanting to ask the obvious. "How do you get them to listen to you?"

Nicole laughed at that question. "Commander, believe me when I say that you're not the first person to ask me that. Have you ever heard of the Flying Tigers?"

"Yes. They were a group of American mercenary fighter pilots led by Claire Chennault and flew for the Nationalist Chinese during the Second Sino-Japanese War."

"Well, they're just like us. Those pilots were all crazy as well. They drank, pranked, and womanized whenever they could on the ground; they even had a pet leopard. But in the air, they were disciplined and unstoppable. Both Claire Chennault and I have figured out that for people like the Tigers and my Spearheads that if you're willing to... tolerate... some of their quirks, they will never let you down."

"But why are you of all people in command of Spearhead team? It seems like a waste of someone of your talent."

Nicole looked insulted.

"It's far from a waste, Commander. We're very good at what we do: taking the fight straight to the covenant and punching them right in the nose."

"That may be, but this is a mission that requires tact and subtlety. In all honesty, I doubt that your team can stay quiet for long enough."

Now she was outright defensive. "Then you're using us wrong, Sir. Spearhead is for the worst case scenario when stealth is no longer an option. We can take on levels of opposition that no one else can. As for subtlety, we can be one hell of a distraction."

The commander did not looked convinced.

"I know that we're definitely... unconventional in regards to Spartan standards, Commander, but we're worth it."

This was not the way he wanted to kick things off with her.

"With all due respect, Sir." Nicole continued. "...let me just say this: send us in first. You'll see what we can do."

* * *

John poured himself another cup of coffee. He was now sitting in the officers' mess opposite of Captain Keyes. As promised, the captain revealed when and where he had encountered John. Looking back, John should have seen this coming. It was only proper that the man who helped Doctor Halsey recruit him into the Spartan program would be the one to lead him into the most dangerous mission of his life.

Still, John's features looked far from surprised.

Captain Keyes raised an eyebrow. "You don't look shocked, Commander."

John downed the steaming hot cup of coffee in one gulp. "After all that's happened today, Sir, I'm all out of shock."

An aide came to tend to the table. John handed him the coffee pot.

"Keep it coming."

* * *

**A/N: Well, this chapter certainly took a lot out of me. So here we have the members of Spearhead team: the team leader Nicole-458 who is a model soldier but a fierce defender of her team off the battlefield; the philandering sharpshooter Steven-666 who indulges a little too much of the more refined pleasures of life; the pyromaniac Jonathan-665 who essentially provides walking artillery; the fast and nimble assault specialist Richard-701 who is a little defensive about his height; and the homicidal Spartan Shock Trooper Wa-514. **

**Also, I thought that I'd approach Noble Six in a different direction than most people have written him. Here, he is the Spartan ace pilot. He'll still see plenty of action on the ground, though.**


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer: I can't believe that this still has to be said, but Halo is all 343 Industry's. Any attempts to sue the author will net you at most one of my doomsday devices (Go ahead and take, I have more!).**

**A/N:**** As always, my deepest appreciation for my beta Tikigod. They help make this story possible (and having some semblance to English instead of lower Slobovian).**

**Note: TBX stands for Thermobaric Explosives, basically a fuel air bomb.**

* * *

"_No. I don't think that the measly little freighter can handle them." - Catherine-320 in reference to Spearhead Team. _

* * *

**1400 Hours, October 12th, 2552 (Military Calendar) / UNS **_**Pillar of Autumn**_**, in the Oort Cloud of the Caria System, Sector 259. **

It had been nearly two weeks since they had arrived at their destination. John looked anxiously at the massive holographic projection in the center of the CIC. The feed from a small force of Clarion spy drones followed the Covenant traffic in, out, and around the system. Next to the Spartan were Major Silva and Captain Keyes.. The two AIs were also present.

They were all silently following a single dot cruising in between the fourth and fifth planet of the system. It was a Covenant freighter, the exact target they had been looking for since they arrived. After twelve days of near shots and missed opportunities, even the Spartans were getting frustrated with waiting in the Oort cloud. Perhaps this one would finally be the one they were allowed to go after.

"Hold on." Cortana commented. "Looks like she's changing course." The freighter leisurely turned towards the icy Caria V.

"Is it going to set down on the surface, Cortana?" the Captain inquired. The AI didn't answer for a few moments.

"Wait. Receiving update now." Cortana responded. John's knuckles were turning white at the anticipation. "Confirmed! The freighter is heading for the surface! It's going to refill its water supply."

The room erupted into cheer and jubilation. Everyone was sick of the long wait and are more than ready for action. The Commander himself finally released his iron grip and let loose a sigh he hadn't known that he was holding.

It was time to launch the attack.

The captain turned to his two infantry commanders. "You two know what to do."

John nodded and turned to the holotank where Cortana presided.

"Hold on, Commander." A few seconds later, the quantum chip flared to life. "Okay, yank me."

The Spartan obeyed, withdrawing the AI and depositing her into his helmet's slot. Wellesley quickly took her place and assumed control over the ship.

Just as the two soldiers left for the exit, Cortana spoke up.

"Try to bring her back to me in one piece, Wellesley."

* * *

"General quarters! General quarters! All hands to battle stations! 1st Spartan Combat Group, report to the hangars." Wellesley announced over the shipwide com. All over the ship, marine and naval personnel burst into action. Bulkheads were sealed and all flammable material secured. Missiles were loaded and MAC began its charge cycle. Deep within the ship, the new reactor flared with growing power as the secondary reactors boosted the main reactor to just below He-3 fusion temperature, ready to make that final push at a moment's notice.

In the crew quarters, thirty one Spartans in Mjolnir armor snapped to attention. Within seconds, they had grabbed their combat gear and were ready for action. As one indistinguishable mass, they quickly marched to the elevators.

"Rich, go get Wa and Jonathan." Nicole ordered.

The Spartan-IV complied, dashing off at breakneck speed. Several crewmen rushing to their posts were in his way, but Richard simply leaped over them and continued on without a word. The door sealed and the group descended towards the hangar.

As they descended, the Spartans readied themselves for combat. The Spartan-IIs and IVs operated mostly in the same manner as the Marines do. At the most basic level, the Spartans centered themselves on a six man fire team. They were further divided into two sections of three: an assault section and a support section. The assault section consisted of three riflemen with at least one armed with an automatic shotgun or an assault grenade launcher loaded with canister shots. The other members wielded SCRs or M55s, depending on their personal preferences. The support section consisted of the machine gunner, an assistant gunner, and a grenadier who is also the team leader; they would be armed with either SAWs or M42 GPMGs and Assault Grenade Launchers. This arrangement allowed for a fire team to sustain one or two casualties and still be combat operational.

Above the fire team level, the Spartans were further divided into three squads, each with two fire teams. Squad level command was divided up between Fred, Carter, and John himself with John retaining overall command of this platoon sized unit.

"Commander." Emile said as he tapped his automatic shotgun. "Would you mind if I went with Spearhead on this one?"

Before the Noble CO could respond, Jun made his thoughts known. "You always want to go with them."

"What can I say? They are a fun bunch, especially when the bullets start flying."

"Sometimes, I wonder why he wasn't assigned to Spearhead in the first place." Kat commented as she made final adjustments to her M55's Mk 7 scope.

Jorge chuckled. "Hehe. He'd fit right in."

"Um, hello?" Steven spoke up as he took off his helmet. The Spearhead sharpshooter lit up another blunt and took a deep hit as he cradled his _Eargesplitten Loudenboomer_. "We're right here."

"And we all know why Emile isn't on Spearhead." Nicole interjected. "Rich would barbecue him alive before he'd give up his spot."

"Oh please, I can take on shorty." Emile countered.

"Yeah, keep thinking that, Emile. I'll believe it when I see it." Carter said. "And you better pray that Rich never finds out that you called him shorty. As for going with the crazies, I might let you go with them depending on the circumstance and only if you ask really nice."

The IVs erupted in laughter. The IIs, however, stayed in awkward silence.

"You guys really do talk too much." Fred finally commented.

* * *

"All right," Lt. Melissa McKay boomed as he strode out onto the assembled and combat ready 300 strong ODST battalion. "Listen up, Helljumpers! You know our mission objective. We have a covie freighter waiting for us on the surface of an ice ball. We will take it from them as the first step of our plan to take a covie warship straight to the heart of their empire."

The Helljumper mostly kept straight faces, but McKay could tell that they were a little nervous. And who could blame them? It was well known that no one had ever succeeded in take a Covenant warship before. Every time they came close to seizing control of one, the Covenant crew always blow up their ship before they would hand it over. It also didn't help that the lieutenant wasn't the most inspiring of speakers. Leading soldiers into battle wasn't a problem; leading them through a speech, however, was.

Before McKay had to continue, however, the nearby elevator opened to reveal Commander-117 and Major Silva stepping onto the deck.

"Attention on deck!" the lieutenant shouted. The ODSTs saluted their superiors.

"At ease." Silva announced. The Spartan Commander departed from the group to his waiting formation near the pelicans. Silva walked before his men with a smug grin on his face as he inspected them.

"I trust that you were briefing the men, lieutenant?" Silva inquired.

"Yes, sir." McKay responded. "I was in the middle of appraising them of our objectives."

"Well thank you, Lieutenant. But I'll take over from here."

She knew what was coming next. "Of course, sir."

The Major turned to his men once more.

"Listen up! Play time is over. Captain Keyes is tired of our company and wants us to leave this tub. But that's alright, because we have party to crash. We have covie freighter sitting on the ice with invitations for each and every single one of you."

The ODST Major paused at that point, allowing his bright, beady eyes to sweep the faces around him, his mouth straight as a crease. "Now I know what you're all thinking. No covie ship has ever been capture before. And not only are we trying to jack one of those babies, we're going for two. Well, there's a very good reason why it has never worked: because HighCom didn't have the brains before to send in the Helljumpers! Where others fail, we will succeed. That is the tradition of the Orbital Drop Shock Troopers. And I expect every single one of you to do whatever it takes to maintain that record."

"Hoorah?" Silva raised his rifle into the air for emphasis.

"Hoorah!" The battalion responded as one.

"And we will be damned to the nine hells before we let..." Silva turned to point at the Spartans in the distance. "Them, those freaks, get the job done before we do!"

"Hell no, Sir!" The ODSTs responded.

Silva grinned with pride. "That is all!"

McKay felt somewhat envious of her superior. Silva may have been a hothead, but he was a competent hothead and could inspire the troops in ways that she never could. Like all the helljumpers of the battalion, she had absolute faith in him on the battlefield. What worried her was when Silva is off the battlefield, at least the battlefield where they're facing the Covenant. Like any other Helljumper, she didn't look too kindly on the Spartans as their rivals. But friendly rivals they remained, or at least that's how its supposed to be. But she knew that Silva had some personal history with the Spartans. That final bit was way over the top. Still, the peace had held for the duration of the trip. She just hoped that it will last long enough to finish the job.

* * *

John shook his head at Silva's vitriolic finale. This is not the way that one should properly prepares for battle. Encouraging this kind of petty rivalry had a disturbing tendency to get people killed. Still, he had worked with ODSTs in the past; he trusted them to perform their duties once the bullets and plasma bolts start flying. Now left with nothing to do whilst they waited for the last three member of Spearhead, John secured his weapons.

The Spartan commander himself had opted for an SCR chambered for 7.62mm rounds. His own experience had taught him that having common rounds in large quantities mattered the most in the field. Seeing as they were going into close quarters, he had opted for 50mm canister shots for his under barrel launcher. As a secondary, John packed an M800 LAW rocket launcher. And while he could see the advantages of the M22 PDR on ammunition compatibility, he was too used to having a pistol as his sidearm to part with the M6. He had also packed an assembly of both condensed and TBX grenades. This configuration gave him the most flexibility of all possible load outs. Barring the machine gunners, and grenadiers, and sharpshooters, most of the other Spartans were similarly equipped.

John noticed that Nicole and Steven, however, had their SCRs chambered for 12.7mm and PDRs for sidearms. Those Spearheads definitely preferred to hit hard and fast.

As he wrapped up his weapons, the five members of Blue Team corralled around their CO. With the departure of Fred to command his own squad, Kelly had taken his place as John's XO. She was suppose to lead the assault section, but everyone knew that John has a tendency to lead the advance himself. The slippery Spartan preferred to keep herself light and nimble, packing only a M55 with under barrel shotgun and a PDR. John knew that for Kelly, every gram counted.

Forming the rest of the assault section was Joshua and James. The two Spartans were more balanced than Kelly, having equipped themselves in the same fashion as John.

Will and Linda formed the support section. Will was more than competent as a machine gunner and he brandished a SAW loaded for 12.7mm belts for suppressive fire. Seeing as there is not going to be a lot of space and distance for her rifle skills to come into play, Linda doubled her normal role as the team's designated marksman with being the grenadier. Despite that, she eschewed the Assault Grenade Launcher for a SCR chambered for 12.7mm rounds and 50mm grenades and a rail rifle. As their sidearm, both Spartans had PDRs chambered for 7.62mm.

"We're Oscar Mike?" John inquired.

"Affirmative, Commander." The Spartans replied in unison.

He expected nothing less. " Alright, let's get on board."

The Spartans began climbing aboard the many pelicans awaiting them. Just as John was about to board himself, he caught sight of Noble Team hopping aboard their own pelican. Noble Six, however, didn't join them. Six noticed the Commanders gaze on him and turned to John. The commander noticed that Six had kept his load simple, just an M55 and a pistol.

"Are you not joining us, Lieutenant?" John asked.

"Oh, I'll be joining you, sir. Me and my Saber will be your escort. I'll blast the way in for the rest of you and hop in on foot once the air is clear."

John nodded. "Good luck, soldier."

"Same to you, sir" Six turned away and headed for his Saber. John turned back and took Linda's proffered hand as he jumped on board.

"You like him, don't you?" Kelly asked as John settled in.

"He's a good kid. There's a lot of potential there."

"Hmm. Reminds me of someone I know."

John nodded in appreciation. In the distance, he could hear the other Spartans in the middle of their own conversation. The moments right before a mission were probably the only time that Spartans were talkative by normal standards, and for good reason. These small talks before a mission really did help to reduce the tension.

"What's taking the Spearheads so long?" Kelly continued.

"Well, I have an idea. But I'm not sure that I want to be right this time."

As if on cue, the elevator arrived and the three Spearheads marched in. The sheer amount of firepower that they were carrying and lugging was frightening. Richard donned a modified thruster pack that seemed almost oversized for his short frame. The Spearhead assault specialist had a PDR and an assault grenade launcher loaded with canister shots and hornet's nests rounds, but those were easily overshadowed by the hefty M7057 defoliant projector that was chained around his shoulder hanging next to his hip. The distinctive red canisters loaded in its socket and on his belt were loaded with Triethylaluminum. That napalm-like pyrophoric substance could burn at three thousands degrees centigrade; more than enough to melt a fully armored hunter in just a few seconds and to make incombustibles combustible. It didn't even have to hit its target to kill and incinerate as its thermal output was hotter than most Covenant small arms plasma and could ignite objects several meters away. Needless to say, Triethylaluminum wasn't often employ as it was as dangerous to the user as it was to the target.

As if there wasn't enough firepower to go around, that pyromaniac Jonathan was literally pushing a trolley loaded with his improvised explosives. At least a dozen of his panzerfausts and a mass of his stick grenades were visible; John could only guess what and how much was underneath those. Around his shoulder was a satchel that was most likely packed to the brim with more explosives. As for weapons, Jonathan had an M55 and an Assault Grenade Launcher.

John already knew what the final member of Spearhead brought into a fight, but it was still an awesome sight to behold. The almost three meter tall Spartan Shock Trooper leisurely walked with the heavy tungsten steel shield, the 20mm helical rail autocannon, the pulse energy cannon, and his massive ammunition pack chained around his shoulders as if they were just a knapsack. The boom of his footsteps, however, more than betrayed their weight.

Spearhead Team definitely prefers to hit hard and fast.

"Explosives for the masses!" Jonathan shouted as he waved two of his panzerfausts in the air. "The people demand it!"

Emile hopped off of Noble Team's pelican and began browsing through the stack of explosives along with Nicole and Steven.

"Damn, Jonathan. You know that you sound like a communist when you say that?" Emile jabbed. He seemed almost ecstatic at the options.

"That's because I am communist, comrade Emile. You should have learned that by now. Now help yourself to the people's explosives."

"Well thank you, comrade." The group loaded the explosives into Spearhead Team's pelican. The IIs sat in incredulous silence at the exchange. As if to prove his point, John spotted little red star emblems painted on each of Jonathan's devices.

"Hey, guys." James spoke up back in Blue Team's pelican. "Do you think that we should have helped ourselves to some of those..."

"No!" The team collectively answered.

With the entire assault force finally ready for departure, the deck cleared away. The hangar depressurized and the massive doors finally opened. The flight of pelicans departed the Autumn and formed up with twelve Sabers and four Longswords for their approach on Caria V. One particular pelican, however, lagged behind as its engines strained to keep up with the rest of the formation.

* * *

"... I'm just saying, Carter, that it might not be a good idea to send in Spearhead in the first wave on this one." Kat suggested.

"Why? You don't think that Nicole and her lunatic squad can handle a measly little freighter?" Carter replied in an amused tone. Emile, Jun, and Jorge, burst into laughter, leaving the other Spartans aboard slightly confused.

"No. I don't think that the measly little freighter can handle them."

The laughter came to a screeching halt. To reinforce her point, Kat took one of Jonathan's stick grenades from Emile and waved it before Carter. "A warship is one thing, but a freighter, Covenant or not, can't stand up to that kind of firepower. Do you really want to take a risk with Wa and Jonathan? We'll be lucky if we can salvage an engine manifold before they're finished."

"Point taken." Carter deadpanned. "I'll talk to the commander to have us, Blue, and Red Team lead the way then. Spearhead will be our reserve. And God help us if we need them."

* * *

**1600 Hours, October 12th, 2552 (Military Calendar) / 1****st**** Spartan Combat Group, Caria V, Caria System, Sector 259. **

The formation of pelicans and sabers pulled up as they closed with Caria V's icy surface. The timing of the attack was perfect. The Covenant freighter had landed on an ice sheet that was an hour from crossing the terminator. With this perfect cover, the flight of pelicans, sabers, and longswords approached the planet from its shadow to obscure themselves from any long range sensors. To prevent the freighter from spotting them too early, the flight plunged right onto the deck, a mere 500 meters altitude. They didn't have to fly too fast to maintain altitude. Caria V is only around the same size and mass as Luna and could only muster a token .27g.

Inside the pelican Echo-419, John left his seat and entered the cockpit. He wanted to see the approach with his eyes.

"Cortana, have the freighter's crew disembarked yet?" the Commander asked.

"Receiving update from the Clarion drones now." Cortana responded. "It seems that there are at least thirty six personnel on the ice sheet right now. They're deploying drills to excavate the ice for storage."

Perfect! They could catch them with at least some of the crew outside. But who knew how big the ship's crew was?

"ETA 90 seconds, Commander." Foehammer announced.

"The longswords are requesting permission to begin jamming the area." Cortana said.

"Send them up." John ordered.

The four longswords and four sabers broke formation and took to the stars. They ascended to roughly two thousand meters and blanketed the area with electronic interference. It was enough to prevent any communications from the freighter, but it would be distorted by the gas giant Caria IV's magnetosphere to prevent anyone from figuring out that an attack was happenning.

Just before them, one last ridge separated them from their target.

"Alright, folks. Here we go. You might want to strap in, Commander."

The Spartan complied and the pelican rocked as Foehammer pulled the stick up, surging over the ridge and onto the ice sheet.

There it was. The Covenant freighter sat conspicuously on the ice. The ship was characteristic of all Covenant starship designs. Greyish-white and carapace purple dominated the hull. It was around 450m longs, about 200m in width, and nearly 130m in height. It had a central spherical bulb that tapered off into the bow like a Covenant frigate. Several elegantly shaped metal cowlings wrapped around the bulb like fingers around a wine glass. It was unarmed, not a single weapon to be seen. More importantly, its engines were off.

Behind them, the sabers surged forward to make strafing runs on the work crew. There were at least fifty of them on the ice, mostly grunts with a few elites and nearly all were unarmed. In seconds, the Saber's 30mm cannons laid them to waste in an overwhelming and completely out of proportion display of firepower. There were a few elites and grunts next to the ship's opened cargo bay doors, but they quickly retreated into the ship. The sabers didn't fire on them lest they damage their target.

"Alright, we're going in for a low gravity drop!" Foehammer shouted to her passengers. "Sealing the cockpit now! Prepare for decompression!"

The Spartans readied their weapons as the atmosphere hissed away. The rear hatch descended, giving the occupants a good view of glacier as they lined up in the center of the blood tray. John made sure to be first on the line. The pelican slowed to low g drop speed a mere twenty meters away and about ten meters above the ground.

"Green light! Green light! Hit 'em Spartans!"

The Spartans leaped off the pelican, ready to fight. But there were no foes to engage yet; they had already retreated into the ship. Other pelicans began their drop as well, saturating the airspace around the ship with Spartans and ODSTs. After nearly eight seconds, they landed softly on the ice.

"Form up!" John ordered over the com. Five green lights responded on his HUD. Kelly took point, followed by James, Joshua, and John himself while Will and Linda stayed back. They moved up as fast as the low gravity would permit them.

The Covenant, however, weren't going to simply allow them on board. The cargo bay doors began to close.

"This thing might be a cargo ship, Cortana, but I think that it can at least take a few hits." the Commander asked.

"Hm. By my best estimation, I'd say that you're right, Commander. Cortana to Foehammer. Request fire support on these coordinates." The AI said as she transmitted target coordinates.

"Copy that, Cortana. Firing on the bay doors now."

Foehammer turned her pelican around and opened fire on the doors. A small barrage of 30mm cannon fire and Anvil-II missiles blew the closing doors clean off. Nothing is going to stop this boarding action.

Once they finally made it onto the ship, the Spartans of Blue Team felt the immediate pull of gravity. They quickly dashed towards the corridor accesses, which were naturally locked down. More Spartans and ODSTs quickly followed up.

"Hold on, Commander." Cortana spoke up as she placed a mark on John's HUD. It was a holographic console of some sort, though far be it from him to know how to use it. "You can drop me off there."

"Are you sure, Cortana?"

"Well, you could drop me off here to let me try to open the door or you can try to blast your way through." Cortana retorted. "Personally, I think that it's better to avoid damaging this ship as much as possible."

"Point taken."

John pulled the data chip from his helmet and inserted it into the console. For a few seconds, nothing happened, leaving the Spartan to wonder if he should pull the chip back out. But that thought disappeared as the console flickered to life and Cortana's avatar appeared. The door opened with a gust of wind as the corridor decompressed. John narrowly dodged a flying grunt that had been unfortunate enough to be sucked out, prompting some laughter over the com channel from the ODSTs. Looking back at Cortana, the AI gestured to the data chip. The commander took the hint and returned Cortana to his helmet.

"Ah, much better." Cortana began. "Well, I got the door open. But unfortunately, the console is not networked with the rest of the ship."

The boarding party poured into the breach. There was no resistance.

"Did you find out anything useful?" The Commander asked.

"Well, at least I managed to figure out their program architecture and their basic operations. It's surprisingly primitive, by the way."

"Primitive?" They began to fan out, moving in every direction and every corridor and portal. The exposed door finally closed and the corridors were flushed with life giving atmosphere.

"Oh, don't get me started. But this is technically a Covenant civilian ship. Not exactly top of the line, I wager."

Before either could continue, a single grunt ran across the corridor ahead of the group. John immediately took the shot, putting a round through a should. The commander knew the technical aspects of the super 7s he just fired, but it was still a surprising sight to see it in action. The round pierced right through the armor and detonated somewhere within its chest, taking the neck and head clean off with a shower of purple blood.

The boarders continued up and down the ship, not really knowing where they were going. They met the occasional grunt that they quickly dispatched. This mission did not permit survivors or prisoners barring extenuating circumstances. A part of John felt some morbid satisfaction. For the first time, the civilians in the line of fire were not human, but Covenant. Somehow, though, he doubted that the Covenant would care.

"Commander, Noble One here." Carter said through the com. "We've secured what looks like the bridge at the center of the ship."

"Any resistance?"

"None of the armed sort. The Covenant here were just like the rest. None of them were equipped to fight. They did try to sabotage the systems, though. There's a lot of superficial damage. Noble Two is attempting to assess the damage."

"Copy that. Hold your position. We're on our way."

Blue Team continued through the winding passageways of purple and gray. Looking to his right, John could see Kelly twitching ever so slightly. He knew what she was thinking. Every time the Spartans had boarded a Covenant ship, they had lost someone. But now they were better equipped and more experienced. They wouldn't let that happen again.

The scene on the bridge was almost cliché. The small command room was littered with the bodies of grunts and elites. They had been torn apart by super 7s, the walls painted purple and blue with their blood. Sparks and smoke poured from some of the consoles. The consoles and holo-projectors that hadn't been destroyed were inactive. John nodded to Kelly and she and the rest of Blue Team joined with Emile, Jorge, and a few ODSTs near the door in defensive positions.

"Report." John began.

"I've only figured out the basics of the system, Commander." Kat commented. "The damage looks superficial, mostly limited to just the console themselves."

"Plug me in, Commander. Let me take a shot at this. The bridge must be networked with the rest of the ship."

The Spartan CO complied, withdrawing the data chip from his helmet and handing it to Kat to insert into the port.

"Ok, there we go." Cortana said as her avatar popped into existence. "Alright, I have full access. Reactivating internal systems now."

The bridge came to life as every serviceable console flickered on, displaying all sorts of information in the unintelligible Covenant language.

"I've found the rest of the Covenant crew. Looks like they've bunched themselves into the engine room. Oh, hold on there. It looks like they're trying to overload the reactor."

"Can you stop them?"

After a few moments, Cortana responded. "There! I've place the reactor in a diagnostic cycle. That should slow them down."

"They can still blow us all up, Commander." Kat interjected. "I may not know the reactor's specific design, but I'd wager that it wouldn't take more than some well placed explosives."

"Then we better get down there." John announced as the Spartans readied to leave. "Cortana, send a coordinate update to the others. Seal off all exits."

"Understood, Commander. Coordinates updating now. I'm also transmitting a map of the ship to everyone." Cortana acknowledged. "Oh, and ah just so you know Commander, the Covenant personnel down there are fully armed and..."

"We'll deal with them." the Commander interrupted as the Spartans stormed off the bridge, leaving the AI in a wince. Cortana opened a channel to her Spartan.

"...and they seem to have some new toys."

* * *

Near engineering, the corridor turned a hard left before the entrance. The Spartan mentally sighed; this would give them some cover, but would also restrict their speed of entry. The Spartans lined up and prepared to breach. Their shields glowed in gold as they switched them into assault mode. There was no way around a frontal assault on this one, and there were twenty seven grunts, jackals, and elites waiting for them on the other side. At least Red Team was ready to breach along Blue and Noble from another entrance on the far side and Silva's ODSTs were prepared to storm the upper decks.

John took up position at the lead of the file. Behind him, Kelly pulled a TBX grenade from her belt before he countermanded it.

"No explosives unless authorized. We can't take the risk."

Kelly nodded and placed the grenade back. She gave his shoulders a quick pat, indicating that she and everyone else behind her was ready. With one last sigh, he pulled a smoke grenade from his belt and pulled the pin.

He turned turned the corner and the doors automatically opened. A torrent of plasma greeted him as he tossed the smoke grenade in.

Something was wrong. That was far too much firepower being thrown at them for a just an assembly of twenty seven grunts, jackals, and elites. For a split second, it looked as if he had been under fire from two entire platoons. They must have brought in light plasma turrets to reinforce their position. But there was no choice. The Spartans had to advance. Trusting in the power of the assault shields, John switched on his thermographic vision and charged forth into the smoke.

His shields angrily flared against the dozens of plasma bolts smashing into them. He could see them, a dozen or more spread out along the floor and a few catwalks above. There were at least half a dozen portable plasma turrets deployed against them! Just before his shields flatlined, John dove behind a support beam. He could see from his HUD that the rest of Blue Team had managed to follow him and Noble Team was about to make their run. Emile charged forward.

Several bright blue spheres right before the door.

"Fall back! Fall back!" Carter shouted to his teammates as they skid to a halt. The plasma grenades detonated, knocking the Nobles back, save Emile who had already broken through and took up position next to John.

Sparks and electricity arced near some of the explosions. They were comparatively small and weak compared to plasma grenade detonations, but bright and loud enough for his helmet to polarize the visor and cut off the audio for a moment. But then the Commander noticed that his recharging shields weakened once more. It was some sort of ionic or electrostatic detonation, enough to weaken his shields.

The concussion and thermal convection of the blast blew the smoke away, revealing a wall of plasma shield emplacements blocking their path. There were only grunts manning that line. Above them, there were elites and jackals pouring down fire upon the Spartans. The jackals lacked their usual wrist shields, instead using Covenant carbines. The elites, however, were pouring a frightening amount of plasma at the boarding party, blazing away with a seemingly complete lack of fire discipline. The Spartans quickly fell back on the usual tactic of letting the Covenant exhaust their own firepower by baiting them with short bursts of return fire.

But the elites and grunts showed no sign of burning through their weapons' power supplies. Then he saw two elites that had just drained their plasma rifles. Instead of discarding them, they popped out a couple small odd devices from the bottom of their rifles and replaced them with new ones. They waited for about another five seconds before they resume fire.

"This is what you get for not taking the time to listen to me!" Cortana chastised over the com. "This ship was carrying weapons for front line Covenant ground forces! It's no surprise that they're so heavily armed."

"When did the Covenant began using disposable power cells?"_  
_

On the other side of the engine room, Fred just undergone the same experience Blue and Noble went through. Still, Red Team had forced the Covenant defenders to split their fire, allowing Blue Team to return fire and Noble Team to move up. At the same time, the ODSTs breached the upper level entrances and drew off more of the defenders. With more of their force finally coming into play, the Spartans were finally beginning to wrest fire superiority form the Covenant defenders. Will and Jorge raked the catwalks with super fifties, driving the elites into cover and allowing the helljumpers to pour in. As they attempted to return fire, the helljumpers moved in for the kill, shearing limbs off with volleys of super 7s and even blowing half a torso away.

Near the top of the catwalks, a single elite dashed towards what looked like an engine manifold with something that John was intimately acquainted with: a Covenant plasma charge.

"Suppression fire! Suppression fire! Explosives authorized. Linda, take him out!"

"Finally!" Emile shouted. "I thought you'd never say it." Noble Four pulled one of Jonathan's stick grenade, prime it, and threw it right at the shield wall. The bomb bounced off the protective field, landing right before the cold plasma wall before detonating.

The explosion was almost enough to knock the Commander onto his back and taxed his shields almost to the limit. Though the grenade landed at the base of the shield wall, it felt as if someone had dropped an 81mm mortar shell right on top of them. Whatever anger he had at Emile for using Jonathan's inventions, they fluttered away as John saw the aftermath of the explosion. The grunts that had been firing on them were nowhere to be seen. The shield wall and it emitters on both sides were gone as well. The closest catwalk above them had been ripped clean off. A meter sized hole had been punched right through the deck where the stick grenade had landed.

Above it all, the elites both on the middle catwalks and the one running towards the manifold had been knocked onto the ground. As the shell shocked Covenant warriors collected themselves, Linda quickly took aim and eliminated the bomb runner with a three round burst from her 12.7mm SCR. The Spartans and ODSTs charged forward and swarmed over the upper decks, quickly eliminating the rest of the survivors.

* * *

With the ship secured, the pelicans were called in to load all that could be salvaged without compromising the mission. Fortunately, no one was seriously injured in the assault. Everything of worth from Covenant repulsor trolleys to crates of the new Covenant weapons the Spartans had encountered was hauled away. On the port side cargo bay that had been spared damage during the attack, reinforcements arrived for the next phase of the mission. Among them, a certain five man team of Spartan-IVs sulked on top of several cargo containers.

"You know, I can't believe that they'd cut us out on this." Steven complained. As always, the Spearhead sharpshooter had his helmet off with a blunt in one hand and a flask in the other.

"They had a good reason for that. I can understand why the commander did it." Nicole responded before she snatched the flask from Steven's hand and took a swig herself.

"Still sucks, though."

Steven's response was interrupted by Jonathan's giggles. "Well, I don't mind that much considering that this ship already has my mark of triumph on it."

"You think that they'll send us in on the next one?" Richard asked.

Nicole smirked. "Count on it. A freighter is one thing, a warship is another."

Richard slapped Wa in the shoulder. "What about you, big guy? What's your take on all of this?"

The shock trooper simply stared at Spearhead Four.

"He's thinking about ripping my guts out, isn't he?" Richard deadpanned.

"Heh. What else does he think about?" Steven quipped.

The last of the cargo was finally loaded up. Blue and Noble Teams arrived and headed to the last pelican to resupply their ammunition. The Spearheads saluted their superiors and they returned them. Just as John was about to reach for the ammunition canisters, he noticed that Steven's blunt.

"You're still smoking, ensign?" the Commander asked incredulously.

"What? It's not like it's compromising the mission. You know how many of this it takes to a Spartan high?" Steven took another long drag before flicking the butt away. "This is my fifth and I'm barely getting a buzz."

John turned to Nicole and chided her. "Lieutenant, it is your responsibility to ensure that all your teammates are the best."

Nicole simply shrugged. "That's what I am doing, Sir. Steven actually shoots better when he's on the hashish than when he's not."

At that moment, Cortana interjected. "Surprisingly, that's true. I have his technical scores and combat recordings and they all seem superb even though he was smoking."

Steven cackled. "See, there are three kinds of stoners. The first are your everyday stoners and they need no introduction. The second are the lightweights. The third are the ones who actually functions better _when_ stoned!"

"Guess which one he is." Richard commented.

* * *

**0700 Hours, October 13th, 2552 (Military Calendar) / 1****st**** Spartan Combat Group, Captured Covenant freighter, Caria V, Caria System, Sector 259. **

Aboard the bridge of the freighter, Commander-117 stood in the company of his team. Kat manned the con with Cortana's help. Silva and McKay stood nearby as well. Captain Keyes and Noble Six appeared on one of the holotanks.

"I trust that everything is ready to go , Commander?"

"As ready as we can be, Captain." John responded.

"Excellent. Proceed with your mission. We will be monitoring your progress. Noble Six will be on standby with the air element should you need their help."

"Understood, Sir."

The captain faded away. Noble Six saluted John.

"Best of luck to you, sir."

John returned the salute and the conference ended.

"Take us up."

The freighter ascended from the icy surface. After a couple minutes, it broke free of Caria V's gravitational pull and drifted into interplanetary space.

"Activating the emergency beacon." Kat announced.

For the next twenty minutes, the crew stood in silence. The only sound on board was the hum of the engines and the five Spearheads below deck loudly pacing back and forth.

"Receiving transmission!" Cortana announced. "The Covenant colony of Caria III acknowledged our SOS and is vectoring in the battlecruiser _Truth and Reconciliation_ in to pick us up."

"A battlecruiser?" Silva said. "Well, out of the frying pan and into the fire."

* * *

On the main hangar of the CCS class battlecruiser _Truth and Reconciliation, _the work detail gently lowered the wounded freighter onto the floor. Grunts rushed forward with trolleys loaded with repair parts with their elite overseers berating them to pick up the slack. A small swarm of drones landed upon the hull and began patching up the hole with plasma torches.

The repair crews were somewhat perplexed. The freighter's captain had said that the ship was nearly wrecked by a broken ice sheet, but the damage looked like the scars of battle. The freighter's crew also stayed inside the ship rather than aid in the repairs. Just as the work crew was about to call the bridge for clarifications, the freighter's port cargo bay doors began to open. Most of the Covenant personnel didn't care to take notice, but the few that did were greeted with the sight of five heavily armed Spartans standing in the center of the bay in front of half a dozen warthogs manned by ODSTs.

One of them stepped forward with a massive launcher in one hand and waved at them with the other.

"Oh, Hi!" Jonathan greeted before he pressed the trigger on his panzerfaust. The 120mm shell landed amidst a mass of grunts and hunters working on several Seraphs. Half the hangar was showered with flames and shrapnel as the Covenant fighter was blown to pieces. Nearly everyone in the hangar save the Spearheads were knocked onto their backs or faces.

"Kill the infid..." An elite shouted before a 12.7mm round from the _Eargesplitten Loudenboomer _tore its neck from its shoulders.

"Hey! Look here! It's a distraction!" Rich shouted as he ran forward and hit his jumpjets, the flamethrower in his hands. The shock trooper charged forward with his 20mm autocannon ablazing. Behind him, Jonathan pulled the pin on a stick grenade with a maniacal cackle.


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer: I can't believe that this still has to be said, but Halo is all Bungie's. Any attempts to sue the author will net you at most one of my doomsday devices (Go ahead and take, I have more!).**

**A/N:**** This chapter requires some early explanation of a two terms. First is the Mad Minute. It is a former tradition of the British Army to have its riflemen be able to make at least fifteen aimed shots at three hundred meters in sixty seconds with the Lee Enfield bolt action rifle. In our circumstances, it affects Steven-666 as I accidentally left out from before that he holds the UNDF record for their updated version of the Mad Minute: at least 25 aimed shots at 600m in 60 seconds(his record is 49 aimed shots at 600m). This will be amended in the earlier chapters as soon as possible. This does not mean, though, that he can beat Linda in a shootout. For more information, please refer to Steven's section in Chapter 7.  
**

**Second: a mouse hole as described in this chapter is the term for a hole in the walls made with explosives for attackers to breach a room from an unexpected direction. **

**And now, a piece of good news: the next chapter is already finished and is awaiting my Beta readers. Hopefully, it will be ready to post within the next 48 hours.  
**

**And as always, my deepest appreciation for my betas, Tikigod and vrbtny. They help make this story possible (and having some semblance to English instead of lower Slobovian).**

* * *

"_All warfare is based on deception." - Sun Tzu, The Art of War._

* * *

**0800 Hours, October 13th, 2552 (Military Calendar) / 1st Spartan Combat Group, Covenant CCS-class Battlecruiser **_**Truth and Reconciliation**_**, Caria System, Sector 259. **

Calling the CCS class Covenant vessels a battlecruiser is a bit inaccurate. The CCS class does not fit the classic definition of a battlecruiser as a fast ship killer meant to hunt down weaker opponents and outrun stronger foes. A better description would be an overly large Reverence class cruiser with a large hangar deck to hold planetary assault forces. Resting in the very bowels of the ship, the main hangar forms the bulk of its center bulge that is the defining feature of the CCS class. Usually meant to hold and disembark ground elements via it's central gravity lift, the main hangar is nearly a half a kilometer wide and about 150m in height and can receive support ships right up to a small frigate for repairs and resupply. Twelve raised platforms scattered about the hangar and linked by catwalks serve as both observation areas and as bases for heavier repair equipment. Despite the power of its guns and the strength of its shields, the main hangar is the heart and soul of a CCS class battlecruiser like the _Truth and Reconciliation_.

It is also the site of a pitched battle between the ship's contingent and the 2nd battalion of the 1059th ODST regiment and the 1st Spartan Combat Group. The wounded freighter that the battlecruiser had just picked up smuggled in the entire UNDF boarding party right underneath the covenant's nose.

The deck shook again as another massive explosion tore through the covenant ranks, snuffing out the crazed cackle of Jonathan. 20mm HEIAP ripped through the exposed grunts and elites in Wa's sights. They had been caught completely by surprise. Those that escaped the shock trooper's wrath ran for their lives, though Richard landed right in front of them and incinerated them.

Behind the Spearheads, 1st and 2nd platoon of the 2nd battalion rolled out of the freighter's hangar. Six warthogs armed with 20mm helical rail autocannons and 120mm recoilless rifles added their fire to the footborne helljumpers as they charged forward. On the other side of the freighter, 3rd and 4th platoon backed up by Noble Team poured out of the damaged starboard side cargo bay doors.

"Move! Move!" Carter shouted to the soldiers as he fired. Covenant return fire was intermittent and weak at best. A few small Covenant security teams quickly rushed into the hangar to deal with the boards, but they were cut down by the sheer volume of incoming fire. Taking advantage of the lull, the Nobles and the ODSTs charged up the ramps and gravity lifts onto the platforms.

Carter knew that this was their window of opportunity. If it hadn't been for the fact that the covenant crew had been caught completely off guard, the boarding party would have been at the center of a kill zone. The raised platforms and the many alcoves and support beams provided a perfect defense for any defenders. They had to take those positions quickly before the Covenant could properly retaliate. The platforms in particular dominated the hangar, placing the six hangar entrances in complete enfilade while offering good defilade against incoming fire. Each access point was wide enough to allow an entire squad to march through lined up abreast with proper intervals.

The first five platforms by their vicinity fell quickly and the boarders began consolidating their positions. Machine guns were placed with direct lines of fire right down the closest corridors whose entrance had already been secured. As the covenant attempted to attack the humans from behind, they were met with 1,500 rounds per minute from several MGs with complete enfilade on their targets. Whole squads were wiped out within seconds. Several file of jackals and two hunter pairs attempted to advance behind their shields, but they were quickly dispatched by the sheer volume of incoming MG fire and rocket gunners armed with M800 LAWs.

"Let's toast these muppets already!" Richard shouted to the other Spearheads as he popped another can of triethylaluminum into the incinerator. Just as he was prepared to boost across the hangar, Nicole intervened.

"Keep your skirt on! Let them come. As you just said, this is a distraction. We better put up a damn good show!"

"Killjoy!" Jonathan retorted as he lowered his panzerfaust.

* * *

Covered by the chaotic fighting around, the twenty four Spartan-IIs departed from the freighter via the smaller hatches around the hull. They were cloaked as they landed, quickly moving across the hangar and entered the sixth portal that had been locked down. They slipped through quietly, letting several covenant squads pass by without them knowing any better. After a few more rooms and bays, the two teams split up and moved towards their own objectives.

* * *

Resistance began to stiffen at the other platforms as covenant reinforcements began to respond in strength from the far side accesses. From their vantage point, the Spartans and ODSTs fired upon them, eliminating a few squads but unable to completely stem the tide. The covenant quickly took to the platforms themselves and fired on the humans below, though they were forced behind cover by the withering fire from the four 20mm autocannons as the warthogs attempted to move forward to allow their gunners to fire directly into the corridors. The lightly armored vehicles, however, could not sustain this kind of fire at close range. One of them fell to a newly arrived pair of hunters before the rest of the warthogs retreated back behind cover. The covenant took the opportunity to push several mobile shield generators forward to make their advance into the hangar easier.

The catwalks were surrounded with weapon fire as teams of elites and jackals attempted to storm the human positions from above. Firing straight across the catwalks, the Covenant took their toll on the ODSTs holding closest two platforms. As they neared, they tossed overloaded power cells and plasma grenades, ending the last of the ODSTs' resistance for at least a while. Their advance, however, ended quickly as Wa turned his autocannon on them. 20mm HEIAP shells, each with the equivalent kinetic energy of a 50mm cannon round, tore right through any shields with the first hit and splattered charred chunks against the bulkheads.

The next wave of covenant reinforcements arrived and joined their embattled comrades on the other side, setting up light plasma turrets in an attempt to wrest fire superiority back from the humans. Jun and Steven, however, quickly destroyed the guns with hypersonic 12.7mm slugs. But that didn't stop the covenant from bringing even more turrets and gun crews in to replace them. In the meantime, Jonathan restricted himself to counterbattery duty, immediately shelling any grunts brave enough to reveal his position with a fuel rod burst with 60mm rifle grenades.

"I think that we've humored them for long enough." Carter shouted to Nicole. "Get ready to hit them right through the center."

"Copy that." Nicole replied. She slapped Rich and Wa in the shoulders. "Showtime, guys!"

"Silva, bring up the MGs!" Carter ordered.

"Bring up the medium forty twos! I want fire superiority on the far side platforms!" Silva shouted to his men. The ODSTs brought up several M42 MG teams and placed them on the platform. They hastily set up tripods and planted their medium MGs with water jacketed barrels into the fittings. The gunners lifted their covers and pushed a thousand round belt into the receiver. They flicked the selector switch to 1,500 rpm and opened fire. The storm of self-sharpening tungsten quickly forced the covenant behind what cover provided by the consoles before they too were chewed away, cutting down some of the grunts and elites and pinning the rest behind the thick support beams and columns. The Spartans added their heavy fire to the helljumpers', shredding through the columns with 12.7mm HEIAP fire and 50mm grenades.

In the center of the maelstrom, the assault element of Spearhead team prepared to move forward in complete defiance of the covenant's firepower. They weaved through the shattered wreckages of the many Seraphs and phantoms that the crossfire and Jonathan's barrage had claimed. Whilst Wa, Richard, and Nicole were on the deck below, Steven and Jonathan stayed on the furthest back platform.

"Steven! Jonathan! Get ready to give them the mad minute!" Nicole shouted.

"You got it, boss!" Steven shouted back as he poked out to quickly take another shot with the _Eargesplitten Loudenboomer_.

The shock trooper took lead as he calmly turned out of cover and advance into the open center of the hangar. The air around the Wa cracked and popped as little arcs of electricity jumped to any objects, surfaces, or particles close to him. The electrostatic surrounded his entire body and projected out into a protective field. Half a dozen plasma turrets trained their sights on the new target waltzing towards at an almost leisurely pace.

"Holy shit!" McKay said as she and her squad saw the spectacle. "What the hell is he thinking!"

For a moment, the helljumpers looked on in amazement at the seeming stupidity of the shock trooper's lonely offensive. But there was a method to Spearhead's extreme madness. With all the fire being drawn toward Wa, the rest of Spearhead, Noble Team, and the ODSTs suddenly found themselves almost completely free of return fire from the covenant. By now, nearly every covenant defender in the hangar trained their weapons on the shock trooper. They quickly exploited the pause and unloaded with abandon. 514 paid no heed to any of it as he drew his pulse energy cannon and fired it into the shield wall. The ensuing plasma detonation obliterated the wall, exposing the covenant reinforcements to fire once again. The shock trooper moved passed the first shattered line of defenses and fired on the covenant about fifty meters ahead.

The two brothers of Spearhead emerged from their cover, one with a panzerfaust and another with _Eargesplitten Loudenboomer_. Jonathan sent the shell flying to the further covenant held platform, completely obliterating the area and knocking most of the covenant defenders down. He dropped the spent tube and drew his assault grenade launcher. Beside him, Steven zoomed into the chaos with his scope. In rapid succession, Steven sent one hypersonic 12.7mm ferromagnetic slug after another 400m meters downrange and picking off the elites who were so vital to organizing the defenses. Jonathan joined in his brother's barrage, directing his fire at the plasma turrets. In less than ten seconds, Steven and Jonathan had both exhausted his sixteen round magazines. They quickly slapped in another for their respective weapons and resumed the barrage.

20mm shells flew past a storm of plasma as the covenant traded fire with the shock trooper. The piles of crates and corpses offered little cover to 20mm helical rail autocannon at nearly point blank range. Even the thick bulkheads and support beams were ripped apart. The aliens that had been using them as cover were unceremoniously blown to pieces. The majority of the plasma bolts thrown at Wa, however, arced away against the ionic buffer. More than a few bolts, however, did hit and fuel rod bursts and needles still flew straight and true. Staggered by the blows, 514 steadied his stance as he traded blows with hundreds of covenant warriors that nearly surrounded him, relying on his strength of his body, shields, and armor and the overwhelming desire to lay waste to every living being in sight to hold his ground. The covenant soldiers were forced out of cover to fire on him lest they let the shock trooper's autocannon simply chew their cover away. This, however, exposed them to fire from other Spartans and the ODSTs. The other humans picked their exposed enemies off with ease and their positions began to crumble. With fire superiority firmly in their grasp and the enemy losing their cohesion, Emile and Kat led the helljumpers forward on the catwalks.

"Go, Rich! Go!" Nicole shouted.

Slinging his PDR, Richard drew his flamethrower again and hit his jump jets. In one powerful burst from his thruster pack, he shot across the hangar and landed on one of the two last covenant held platform.

"Call in the exterminator! We have an infestation!" Rich taunted as he unleashed a stream of triethylaluminum. The volatile mixture spontaneously combusted with the air, growing ever hotter and brighter with every meters out. A hunter and several elites and jackal sharpshooters were caught in the blast. The covenant warriors simply vaporized, leaving a melting set of heavy armor puddling onto the floor. Another squad of grunts nearby missed the blast cone, but the sheer heat pouring out from the brilliant white flames set their flesh and armor on fire and detonated their methane tanks. Richard hopped down onto the deck and poured more triethylaluminum almost twenty meters down one of the corridors, incinerating another wave of reinforcements and melting the deck.

Forced to choose between two equally bad options, the covenant opted to direct their firepower at the lone shock trooper. It took dozens of hits, but they finally knocked the behemoth down. Still, the merciless barrage continued. Volleys of plasma grenades added to the growing inferno until the massive magazine was breach and the shells detonated in a spectacular explosion.

"Um, shouldn't we help him down there?" Sergeant Lister asked as he looked down from the catwalks at the funeral pyre of the shock trooper.

"Oh him? He's fine." Emile responded nonchalantly. He pointed towards a specific part in the flames. "Look. There he is right now."

A single menacing figure rose from the flames. The few elites and hunters that weren't tangling with Richard or was out of the line of fire to notice Wa-514 emerge from the flames. His 20mm autocannon and its magazine had been left behind, but his massive shield and pulse energy cannon was still equipped. His armor, similarly, was scarred and burnt, but otherwise undamaged. Wa growled at his dumbstruck foes, the guttural disturbance audible even through the armor. With a roar, he hurled his still glowing metallic shield towards the covenant defenders. The flying and still red hot shield struck a hunter right through its chest and impaled the mighty alien to the wall.

The shock trooper charged headlong into the fray with shocking speed and agility. Aggrieved at the loss of its bond mate, another hunter took aim at 514 and fired. The fuel rod landed dead on at his chest, but it only slowed him down. The hunter lurched forward, determined to meet the shock trooper's charge with its own. The two monsters collided head on, sparks flying from the armor's electrostatic buffer. But 514's momentum was barely broken as he speared the hunter straight into the shield that had claimed its bond mate. All around Wa, the horrified and shell shocked elites, jackals, and grunts froze even as they trained their weapons on him. 514 charged into them with abandon, smacking aside an elite into the walls that left a bloody trail as the shattered corpse slide onto the ground. Another elite, this one an ivory clad ultra that had been conducting the defense, drew its plasma sword from its side and lunged. 514 didn't try to dodge the strike. Using all its strength to pierce the electrostatic buffer, the ultra's blade connected solidly with Wa's chest, but the powerful shield and thick armor held. The enraged shock trooper dug his fingers into the elite's chest and waist as the electrical discharged destroyed its shields and ripped the alien in half.

"Heads up!" One brave grunt shouted as it threw a primed plasma grenade at Wa. The shock trooper hurled the bloody torso in his hands, connecting with the grenade and returning it back to its owner. He turned back to the two impaled hunters and ripped one of the corpses off the wall. Lifting it into the air, Wa tore the waist from the torso, bathing his armor in orange blood before the electrostatic difference flash dried it into an organic paint. Now armed again, he tore into the covenant formations from within, smashing all opposition into bloody smears.

Meanwhile, Richard torched his enemies with abandon until his incinerator ran dry. With no time to reload, he popped the hook on the chain and dropped the incinerator. Just as he drew his assault grenade launcher, the covenant regrouped, intent on eliminating him. Richard fired first. Hundreds of small frangible pyrophoric explosive buckshots screamed out of the barrel into a very wide dispersal cone and struck a group of two elites and three jackals. The pellets smashed into dust on impact with their plasma shields, but they immediately combusted with free oxygen into a massive thermobaric explosion. Richard swept all immediate resistance with volleys of explosive shotgun bursts until he expended all sixteen rounds.

It was then that a team of elites pounced. Six ultra elites wielding plasma swords and two hip fired plasma turret rushed at Richard. The aliens threw volleys of plasma grenades and overloaded power cells.

"Oh, that's not good."

701 ignited his jumpjets and blasted away from the plasma detonations, but the power cell's ionic discharged flatlined even his assault shields as he twisted himself to land on the ceiling in a crouch. Upon contact, his legs thrust him downwards towards one of the turret wielding elites. The two collided and smashed into the ground. Streaming power into the micro-couplers, the Spartan open palmed struck at the elite's chest, disabling it shields and electrocuting it. Before he had a moment to recover, though, Rich was immediately beset by the sword wielding elites again. To prevent them from attacking him all at once, he charged them. Rich sidestepped the first and pulled a stick grenade from his belt. As the second attempted to low swipe him at the knees, Richard leaped somersaulted in the air, allowing him to plant a vicious kick to its back that sent the alien smashing into a support beam. As he was about to land, the third elite lined him up for an easy thrust. But Richard hit his jumpjets again and quickly tackled him. As the fourth elite moved to aid its comrade, Richard blasted off again, but not before leaving a surprise behind.

"Delivery is free for today only!"

The grenade detonated, blowing another in the deck where the unfortunate elite was as it sent everyone nearby, including Richard, crashing onto the floor. Groaning from the concussion of the blast, Richard pulled himself up. But it was then that he himself was taken to the ground. The last ultra pounced onto him and projected a plasma dagger from its wrist. Just as he was about to plunge the blade, though, its arm disintegrated in a gory blast. Not half a second later, its head joined its arm in shattered oblivion.

"Your guardian stoner has ya covered." Steven announced over the com.

At four hundred meters, Steven unloaded one round after another from the _Eargesplitten Loudenboomer _in quick succession. He picked off one target after another as they tried to attack Richard. As his rail rifle recoiled after every shot, he used the duration to quickly pick out another target and adjusted his shoulder and forearm. Before the rifle had resettled, his natural aim was already on his next target. He pulled the trigger as soon as the rifle was aligned with his natural aim. In less than eight seconds, all sixteen rounds were gone and sixteen freshly deceased bodies surrounded Richard as he finally readied his weapons.

"You don't mess with the king of the mad minute!"

Panic broke out in the covenant ranks as all semblance of an orderly defense evaporated. The helljumpers advanced quickly, mopping up all resistance in the periphery quickly. Noble Team, the rest of Spearhead Team, and the four remaining warthogs closed in for the kill. The shock trooper chased them into the last corridor still in covenant hands. Though the elites stood their ground, the grunts and jackals were in a headlong retreat using the shield walls to cover their escape.

The storm of plasma bolts from over a dozen plasma storm rifles did nothing to slow the shock trooper down as he hurled one half of the heavy corpse at the shield wall, shattering the field and smashing the elites behind them. He closed in for the kill, using the remaining half of the corpse as a flail as he smashed them against the ground and walls.

"They're mine!" Rich shouted as he zipped right passed Wa with his assault grenade launcher in hand. He quickly finished off the remaining elites with a few canister shots. Just as he was about to chase after the retreating grunts and jackals down the corridor, Nicole stepped up and mowed them down with her 12.7mm SCR.

"No, they're mine. You guys had more than your fair share already."

Behind them, Jonathan and Steven along with the rest of Noble Team caught up. Around them, the ODSTs consolidated the remaining areas with machine guns and dug in. They were not going to get dislodged from this ship. Several more attempts to retake the hangar were driven off with ease. Everyone in the hangar regrouped and reloaded as the medics counted the dead and tended to the wounded.

"Glad to see that you guys haven't lost your touch." Carter began.

"That was reckless! Insane, even! None of you have any right to be alive after the stunt you guys just pulled." Emile shouted. "It was beautiful."

Wa caught up with the other Spartans, giving Emile a good look at the shock trooper's armor. "No offense, big guy, but orange ain't your color."

Wa simply walked away. Before Emile could say anything else, Carter silenced him with a shake of his head.

"So what now?" Jorge inquired.

"More!" Wa growled as he retrieved his shield. "This isn't enough!"

"Well, we were meant to be a distraction. We better keep up the momentum." Jun asked.

"What should we hit next?" Kat asked.

Before anyone could answer, Wa began to walk towards the port side corridor access. "The main barracks!"

* * *

The Spartans of Blue Team arrived at the ship's central environmental controls. The room was fairly large and held the air scrubbers and the big coils of the magnetic pumps. The Spartans entered the bay with the usual ring that was characteristic of covenant doors. The squad of grunts and jackals along with a team of six elites turned to look with their weapons ready. They saw nothing at first until another squad of grunts and jackals ran across the opened door on their way to drive back the boarders. Convinced that their comrades had just made a simple mistake, they turned back to their tasks.

John crept up to leader of the six elites, a crimson armored sergeant. As he closed to his turned back, he drew his combat knife and waited for the rest of his squad to get into position. Eleven green lights blinked on his HUD. With just a thought, the Commander streamed megawatts of electricity into his left palm's micro-couplers. He quickly hooked his left around his target's shoulders and planted his palm right onto the elite's chest. It shields immediately overloaded. Before it could scream in pain and shock, John drove his blade right into the elite's neck, severing its seventh and eighth vertebrae. At the same time, the other Spartans struck at their targets. In less than half a second, the only occupants of the room that were still alive were the Spartans.

The Spartan dropped their active camouflage and took up defensive position at the door. John moved to the central console and inserted Cortana into the network. The AI had managed to hack the ship's system from afar to prevent it from calling for help and from jumping away, but she couldn't reliably seize control of the ship without actually being in the system. The holographic interface flickered off and was replaced by Cortana's blue avatar.

"That was _way_ too easy! And it's so cramped in here. It's barely bigger than the armor matrix."

"Cortana, do you have access?" John asked.

"Well, almost all of it. There were some systems that I had to disable outright for a while before. I'll have to clean the house afterward. But I have to say that they don't have much of a firewall up in their system. It's like they never anticipated the possibility that someone would try to hack them from the inside."

"Let keep focused." The commander reminded. "We still have to clear out the rest of the ship."

Cortana raised a surveillance image of the hangar bay next to her hologram. The massive hangar was littered with dead and wounded and every surface was riddled with plasma burns or bullet holes. The freighter that they had infiltrated the ship in was on fire. Several machine guns were still firing into the access corridors, easily stopping the bottlenecked covenant counterattacks. John almost winced when a support beam that had been chewed up by 20mm cannon fire collapsed and cleaved into the freighter's hull.

"Well, I suppose that we should considering ourselves lucky that still have half a freighter left to give ONI."

The image changed to show several Spartans dropping their active camouflage and ambushing elites and grunts on a series of catwalks and open decks that surrounded a large contraption that John guessed was the ship's reactor. The battle ended quickly, leaving dozens of covenant warriors dead on the ground.

"I think it's safe to drop radio silence now." Cortana quipped.

John nodded and opened a channel to Fred down in the ship's engineering. "Blue one to Red one. Radio communication authorized. Do you copy?"

"Copy, Blue One." Fred responded. "Engineering secured. Awaiting further orders."

"Standby, Red one." John placed the channel on hold and gave Cortana a nod.

She knew exactly what he meant. "Activating atmospheric pumps in all areas of the ships still occupied by the covenant. Complete decompression in thirty six seconds."

* * *

In the number three barracks, an entire platoon of covenant warriors prepared for battle. It was a fairly large room, enough to house over a hundred warriors for long deployments in comfortable sleeper pods and open bunks. Now, they were all ripped from their welding as the covenant piled whatever furniture, storage crates and whatnot for cover and reinforced them with shield emplacements. Sixty three grunts and sixteen jackals led by eight minor elites and two crimson veterans stood ready to fire on the only door into the barracks. Two pairs of hunters and four plasma turrets further reinforced their position. Still, there was a sense of dread hanging in the air. Most of the ship's crew had already been thrown at the human boarders. Word was filtering back that the counterattack had failed spectacularly with nearly every member of the assault forced wiped out. More than that, they could hear the humans getting closer by the horrid screams of their comrades along with shaking of the deck and the staccato of the primitive human weapons. What chance did they really have against them? But it didn't matter, so long as they performed their last duties honorably and secured their place on the Great Journey.

On the other side of the door, Spearhead Team formed up for their assault. The corridor ascended in a very smooth incline straight into the number three barracks. The shock trooper was in front with his heavy metallic shield. Behind him, Richard loaded his last can of triethylaluminum into his flamethrower. Jonathan stood in the center with his assault grenade launcher loaded with FPX canister shots and two large satchels over his shoulder. Nicole and Steven formed the last of the column, covering the team rear with their 12.7mm SCRs against surprise visitors.

Jonathan took one of the satchel off, giggling as he prepared the fuse. But this was no ordinary satchel charge. Aside from being loaded with thirty kilos of C-12, the fabric that actually held the explosives together had been replaced with a thick needlepoint weave of detonation cord; even the strap was made of explosives.

"I think that this should be enough to make us a decent sized mouse hole." Nicole said through her grin.

"Mouse holes? No. This is going to make a Spearhead hole." Jonathan returned.

With that, the team split up, leaving Wa alone in front of the main doorway as the others entered an adjacent storage room.

* * *

"You really shouldn't go that way, Sir." Kat warned, holding her hands up to reinforce the point.

"And why not, _Lieutenant_?" Silva challenged. Behind him, two squads of ODSTs waited impatiently for the Spartan to stand aside.

"Spearhead is preparing for a breaching operation in the number three barracks, Sir."

Silva huffed at the news. "That's almost three sections of the ship away from us. I fail to see how that concerns me, _Lieutenant._"

Before Kat could explain, Silva interrupted her. "Me and my men are going to take the bridge and the spine of that sad excuse of a captain of this ship. And there's nothing that either you or the covies can do to stop me."

Silva brushed past Kat and turned the corner. Right then, the ship shook to the deck as a powerful blast wave coursed through the ship's corridors. Silva was sent flying back into the bulkheads. Fortunately, the major seemed uninjured physically, though his pride was mortally wounded as he shouted away his men rushing to his aide.

Rolling her eyes for the countless times today, Kat sighed as she left the scene.

"That's why."

* * *

Walking around the four meter wide chasm that the det pack had created, Jonathan brought another of his contraptions from his second satchel. It was one of his stick grenades, though the handle was twice as long and packed with even more C-12 and several additional top charges had been latched on with detonation cord. With Wa and Rich conveniently providing a distraction, Jonathan exposed himself as he curled his finger into the pin.

"One ring to end them all!"

The Spearhead demolitionist tossed the charge into the last of the covenant makeshift fortifications about twenty meters away. Nicole and Steven dove for cover, though Jonathan stood his ground; the multiple stick charge was a new idea and he wanted to see the effects himself.

In the words of a Twenty First century comedian, the dying do see a bright light as they pass away, but only if they're dumb enough to look at the explosion. Milliseconds before the blast wave claimed Jonathan, his Spartan enhanced sense saw the flying body parts and splintering deck plating. For a moment, he could have sworn that he saw a grunt wearing powder blue armor. But then the blast wave caught up to him and sent him smashing into the far side of the storage room.

665 slowly slid onto the floor, his armor's shape deeply imprinted onto the bulkhead. Shaking himself out of the stupor. Jonathan inspected his hands.

"Let's see. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten. Okay, I'm still good. That was totally worth it. Need for oxidizers and accelerants in the next batch, though."

Inside the carnage of the barracks, something unexpected was happening. All around them were the signs that air itself was escaping through the vents. Elites clutching their throats for oxygen, grunts were losing the pressure seal on their methane mask, and Richard's flamethrower spat out a stream of triethylaluminum that failed to ignite.

"Hey! Couldn't they wait ten seconds? I was in a middle of a barbecue here!" Richard angrily shouted as the last covenant warrior dropped dead for asphyxiation.

The shock trooper was even more incensed. Dropping the dismembered bodies, he charged out of the barracks before the rest of the team even knew what had just happened.

* * *

There was no resistance of any sort. The six Spartans of Blue Team carefully picked their footsteps over the covenant dead now littering the ground. All of them had fallen as Cortana depressurized the ship. With most of the crew now dealt with, the boarders fanned out to secure the ship. Despite Cortana's assurances, the numerous massive holes in the hull made by Spearhead, especially the one under the number three barracks near a main power relay, had made John worry over whether or not the ship was still spaceworthy. Now heading towards the bridge,John would find out soon enough.

After several more long winding corridors, they arrived at the bridge at the very heart of the ship. It was very sparse, consisting only of a raised platform sitting over what Cortana had guessed would be the main computer core. There were no consoles, only holographic interfaces. Like the rest of the ship, the dead littered the floor.

There was, however, one exception. A single elite wearing gold and black armor with a breather was kneeling besides the computer core, tinkering with the controls. The six Spartans opened fire and quickly put him down.

"There, Commander." Cortana spoke up as she place a mark on John's HUD. That's the final interface I need to take full control of the ship."

Not knowing the first step to operate the covenant interface, Cortana walked him through the process and finally granted her full access. The holographic controls faded away and Cortana appeared, this time in a fully life sized version of her blue avatar.

"Good. Now that the ship is fully ours', we can..." The AI paused. "Oh, that's not good."

"I'm not going to like this, am I?" John sighed.

"I figured out what our friend over there..." Cortana pointed to the deceased former captain of the ship next to the core. "... was trying to do."

"Did he wiped out the database?" John nervously asked. Even with the ship, the lack of navigational data would render the mission a failure.

"No, I managed to copy the entire database before they reformatted it. But that's not the problem. Goldie over there just managed an open channel burst on all frequencies before you got him. Three guess what the transmission was?"

John sighed. Of course it wouldn't be this easy. "I think that we'll need Captain Keyes for this one."


	10. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer: I can't believe that this still has to be said, but Halo is all Bungie's. Any attempts to sue the author will net you at most one of my doomsday devices (Go ahead and take, I have more!).**

**A/N: In this next installment of the Halo: the Art of War, we have something here that I like to call the Keyes Weave. Read on and find out more. Some of you might find the dogfight that I have written here a little confusing or dry. This is because I wanted to stress the difference between the Interceptor from the Fighter and to espouse the general rule to never dogfight unless you have an advantage. And as always, my deepest appreciation for my betas, Tikigod and vrbtny. They help make this story possible (and having some semblance to English instead of lower Slobovian).**

* * *

"_To move your enemy, entice him with something that he is certain to take. Control his movement with your own" - Sun Tzu, The Art of War._

* * *

**1000 Hours, October 13th, 2552 (Military Calendar) / ****UNS**_** Pillar of Autumn, **_**Caria Oort Cloud****, Caria System, Sector 259. **

"Receiving update from the Clarion drones now, Captain." Wellesley said. "Two CPV class destroyers and one Reverence class cruiser have departed from their berths at Caria III and are making for the _Truth and Reconciliation._"

Captain Keyes stood at the center of the bridge, making his best effort to look calm and controlled. He knew that the crew was nervous. And who could blame them? They were just one ship against the entire system's defense force. Keyes lit up another match for his pipe and turned to the conference on another holotank.

"Then it's our job to intercept them. Lieutenant-312, take the fighter wing and intercept their advance elements. Do not engage enemy heavies."

"Understood, Captain." Noble six replied.

"Cortana, Commander, do whatever it takes to bug out of there. Retreat into the Oort cloud once you have power."

"Copy that, Sir." Spartan-117 acknowledged.

The conference ended. It was time for action. The captain looked at the system map. The display tracked every ship in the system via the Clarion drone squadron dispersed throughout the system. The _Truth and Reconciliation _was still drifting in between Caria IV and V as the Spartans and ODSTs struggle to put her systems in working order again. The covenant flotilla, meanwhile was making a full sublight burn for the captured ship. While they could have simply jumped right on top of the _Truth and Reconciliation_, it would have been tactically unwise considering they had no means of determining the operational status of the ship's weapons. Besides that, the Carion system was (relatively) small, so they wouldn't lose much time with a conventional approach. They were, however, launching Seraphs and Phantoms of both gunboat and assault transport variety. The _Autumn_ herself was sitting in the Oort cloud ahead of Caria V's orbital path while the her fighter wing waited near the surface of Caria V. After considering the positions all the combatants, the Captain came up with an idea.

"Wellesley. If we go at full power, can we enter into orbit of Caria V before the covenant flotilla reach the _Truth and Reconciliation_?"

"Barely, sir." The AI responded. "At maximum acceleration, we can get there just in time for everyone to start shooting."

"But can we put them in weapons range?" The captain asked to confirm.

"Well, yes. That we can do." Wellesley's avatar narrowed his eyes at the Captain. "What are you getting at, Sir?"

Keyes simply grinned. "I think that Caria V has a lot more worth for us than for the Covenant. Lovell, boost the reactors into He-3 fusion and take us to Caria V at best speed."

"Aye, sir. Full power in thirty seconds."

* * *

**1000 Hours, October 13th, 2552 (Military Calendar) / Black Knight and Paladin flights of ****UNS**_** Pillar of Autumn, **_**interplanetary space between Caria IV & Caria V****, Caria System, Sector 259. **

The covenant advance guard closed with the _Truth and _Reconciliation at flank five Seraphs and twelve Phantoms were ready to board and retake the battlecruiser from the humans before they can escape. Their target was still drifting in space, undamaged but out of commission as the new crew struggled to restore systems still in the middle of reactivation. No weapons or shields were online. There was nothing to stop save them from an attack.

That was until a flight of twelve Sabers and eight Longswords burst off of Caria's icy surface, heading straight for the covenant boarding force. The flight consisted of the Black Knights saber squadron and the Paladin longsword-B strike wing. All twelve sabers were flying very close to the longswords to further obscure their sensor profile. The Covenant had not previously faced the UNDF's new space superiority fighter, something the human pilots would take full advantage of today.

In addition to the Sabers, though, the Covenant would have to contend with the UNDF's newest space interceptor: the GA-I2 Longsword-B. The B version represented a doctrinal retrenchment within the UNDFSC's fighter corp. During the colonial period, there were next to no situations that allowed dogfights to take place since the insurgents had neighter the capability or desire to contest the UNDFSC's space superiority. Instead of nimble fighters, the UNDF fielded fast but not so maneuverable area interceptors that traded raw speed and firepower for maneuverability. These area interceptors were meant to quickly cross vast tracks of interplanetary space to intercept insurgent ships that were often nothing more than retrofitted freighters. Further developments in low observability and stronger hull designs resulted in the the GA-TL1 Longsword. This relatively stealthy craft could, with proper skill, sneak up on insurgent ships and could deal and take surprising amounts of damage thanks to its strong yet stealthy hull and large weapons capacity. The covenant, however, threw that paradigm on its head. While the longsword was still faster than the Seraph, it no longer enjoyed an overwhelming edge in speed against its opponents. More than that, being deployed in the defensive to protect the colonies meant that the longsword could rarely exploit its stealthy profile and was often dragged into dogfights with the far more nimble Seraphs. The introduction of the Sabre was part of a two step plan to solve this problem.

The longsword-B was meant to return to its roots as an interceptor, using its heavy armaments, durability, and raw speed to blast through or evade covenant Seraphs and strike at phantoms and starships while the Sabers kept the escorts in check. The new update was fitted with even more powerful engines and a polarized hull. The main gun was replaced with two pulse energy cannons fitted underneath the nose in closeable weapon portals to give the B variant long range direct fire capability as well as to extend its combat endurance. Its massive internal missile bay, however, remained the heart of the Longsword. A Mk 2 ECM package was meant to make the Longsword-B the core of any flight group by denying enemy fighters and gunboats first strike capability.

The longswords activated their ECM systems, obscuring their exact vector and velocity as well as their numbers. Inside the cockpit of the lead Saber, Noble Six deactivated the safeties on his weapons. Aside from the two 30mm augmented helical rail autocannons, the standard Saber carried six ASGM-10 missiles. The so-called "smartest" missile in the UNDFSC arsenal, it had a proven record of defeating covenant electronic countermeasures and could destroy a Seraph if its shields had been whittled down a bit; though it did nothing to stop point defense fire. The coup de grace, though, was the Mk3 Pulse Energy Cannon that he had personally fitted underneath the nose. They were essentially larger versions of the ones already in use with the Spartans in the field.

His orders finally came in over the radio. "Attention Black Knights squadron, this is Paladin One. Hold your current speed and remain behind us until we've delivered our barrage. Standby to engage."

"Copy that, Paladin One. Begin your barrage at your discretion." Six responded.

The covenant formation split up to deal with the new threat. Thirty Seraphs broke with the formation and headed for the humans while five Seraphs remained to escort the twelve phantoms.

"Paladin flight, ID your targets for long range missile and laser barrage."

The pulse energy cannon was ready to fire. Six locked on to the lead Seraph. "This is Knight one, I have laser lock on the lead Seraph."

"Copy that, Knight one. Target registered. Prepare to fire on my mark."

"Acknowledged, Paladin one."

The Seraphs' plasma cannons heated up as they readied their anti-missile guidance scramblers, determined to force the humans into "honorable" one-on-one combat. On the human side, the longswords opened their PEC portal covers and missile bays.

"Target locks confirmed. We're in range."

"Copy that, Paladin one. " Six announced.

"Paladin one committing. Fox One. Fox three."

The lead longsword fired off two ASGM-10 missiles and an ECM missile. The other seven longswords unleashed their own barrages, launching twenty missiles at the Seraphs. Normally, the Seraphs would have immediately opened fire with pulse lasers to shoot down as many missiles as possible. But this time, the ECMs missiles rendered their sensors useless. Forced to rely on visual, the thirty seraphs opened fire en mass, but struck only a couple missiles. The missiles struck home, tearing into the covenant formation as twin pairs of missiles claimed eight of the leading Seraphs.

Now, as the two flights closed ever more and the UNDF squadron entered into Covenant pulse laser range, the longsword-B's ECM package protected them as they prepared to return fire with their pulse energy cannons. The Longsword-B's thick armor absorbed the blows with stride as their own PECs struck their targets with devastating results.

Now, as both sides entered close range, the two sides readied their guns. The eight Longsword-Bs of Paladin flight pushed their engines to full burn, breaking off from the engagement and attempting to go around the Seraphs while the twelve additional combatants hiding in their sensor wake surprised the Covenant and opened fire.

"All knights, weapons free. Knight one committing. Fox three. Fox four." Six announced over the com.

The space between the two flights of fighters filled with plasma bolts, 30mm cannon rounds, and ASGM-10 missiles. The surprised covenant could not concentrate their fire to breach the sabers' shields. The ASGM-10 missiles, however, struck home after a short barrage of 30mm cannon fire weakened the Seraphs' shields, allowing the powerful 125mm HEAT warhead to gut the covenant fighters. The two sides smashed into each other and the battle degenerated into a furball. But outnumbered two to one, the six remaining Seraphs were quickly chewed up by the Sabers.

Running at full burn, the Longsword-Bs' powerful engines allowed them to quickly close with the formation of phantoms. The five remaining Seraph escorts were left in the dust as the Paladins simply avoided them with their superior speed. The Paladins fired a massive wave of forty ASGM-10 missiles into the flight. Helpless against the barrage, the twelve phantoms were quickly dispatched and the Paladins withdrew from the remaining Seraphs. Behind them, twelve Sabers readied missile locks on their new targets.

* * *

**1020 Hours, October 13th, 2552 (Military Calendar) / ****UNS**_** Pillar of Autumn, **_**Caria Oort Cloud****, Caria System, Sector 259. **

The fighters had bought some time for the Spartans and ODSTs, but the Covenant flotilla was still hurtling towards the _Truth and Reconciliation._ There was nothing that the Black Knights and Paladins could do against them; aside from being too few in numbers, they had been armed for interception, not anti-ship duty. The burden of dealing with the covenant flotilla would fall squarely on the shoulders of the _Pillar of Autumn_. On the plus side, the captured ship was at least moving towards the Oort cloud, though not fast enough to escape her pursuers. Still, it wasn't a suicide mission at the least. Despite being outnumbered, keyes knew that he had a lot of firepower and the first strike if he maintained surprise. In naval warfare, the first strike could often decide the battle.

"Detecting elevated Alpha and Beta emissions from the covenant flotilla. They are warming up their plasma torpedoes and are preparing to fire on the _Truth and Reconciliation_." Wellesley announced.

"We are in weapons range of the covenant flotilla, sir." Lt. Hikowa informed.

"Very well. Take us out of the Oort Cloud. I want a MAC solution on the cruiser and a missile solution on the leading destroyer, launchers A1 to D3."

"Aye, Sir." Hikowa responded as she readied targeting data for her weapons.

The battlecruiser moved out of her protective cover, powering up her prototype Mk1 shields. The ECMs, however, were cold; at this range, they were useless. The covenant ships immediately detected her approach and prepared to fire on her, but it was already too late. The _Autumn_ was prepared to fire right away.

"Target lock confirmed. Weapons ready to fire." Wellesley announced.

"Then by all means, fire!" Keyes ordered.

The ship shuddered three times in quick succession as three Mk21 kinetic fusion shells screamed out of the MAC. Two hundred missiles followed the slugs.

The first MAC round smashed into the covenant cruiser's shields. Extreme negative impulse smashed the lithium deuteride into fusion pressure and initiated a reaction. The resulting neutron burst then transmutated the depleted uranium tamper into fissionable U-233 which then immediately split, releasing another massive burst of radiation and a nearly ten megaton thermonuclear detonation at point blank range. The combination of the nuclear blast and extreme kinetic energy, which was still carried by the fusion plasma, turned into a relativistic jet of fusion grade plasma. The shields collapsed and the plasma jet sliced into the hull, slagging systems and personnel alike within and outside the ship. The second round tore into the exposed center and detonated inside the ship, splitting the vessel in half and breaching the reactor. The third flew right through the wreckage.

As the covenant cruiser shattered into pieces, the volley of missiles claimed the first covenant destroyer. The ECM missiles ensured that only a few of the over two hundred missiles were actually shot down by point defense lasers. Twenty firestorm missiles battered away the shields, allowing the far more numerous archer missiles behind it an open shot at the destroyer's central spine. The broken ship fell apart as the forward and aft halves drifted away.

Jubilation erupted throughout the _Autumn_ as the crew witnessed the firepower they now commanded. Lt. Hikowa in particular was overjoyed. It was the covenant's turn to feel the wrath of humanity.

The remaining destroyer fired off three torpedoes as the _Autumn_.

"I guess now we'll see just how good are those shields." Keyes mused. "Focus all point defense lasers for interception."

All twenty of the _Autumn_'s Mk2 Phalanx laser that could be directed at the torpedoes opened fire. The beams struck at the first incoming plasma torpedo, heating the plasmoid up to even hotter levels. Streams of plasma escaped from its magnetic constriction until the combined effects of the increasing distance and the growing plasma pressure caused the constriction field to collapse, detonating the torpedo far away from its target.

There was no time to shoot down the rest of the torpedoes, though.

"Polarize the shields. Prepare to hit the emergency thrusters." The captain ordered.

It was folly to think that ionizing the shield would completely repel plasma torpedoes, but it does give a ship more space and time to dodge them if it turns into the torpedoes' path. The _Autumn_ aligned itself towards the torpedoes and floored its main thrusters. The destroyer adjusted its magnetic guidance to account for their target's change in velocity. But as the torpedoes closed, they ran up against the ionic buffer, cause slight deviations in its path as it slightly arced away. That deviation, however, bought just enough time for the _Autumn_'s thrusters to blast it out of the torpedoes path at the last moment. The sheer heat of the torpedo, however buzzed the _Autumn_'s prototype shields and there was no avoiding the second shot. Even as the Phalanx turrets fired on the wayward torpedo, the last torpedo struck home, smashing into the weakened shields and scorching the exterior.

"Damage report." Keyes demanded.

"No primary systems compromised." Wellesley began. "There is a breach in the first layer of exterior armor plates, but no breaches in the main belt. Phalanx turrets 16 and 17 destroyed. Missile pods D2 to D4 disabled."

It was not too bad considering that they had just took a plasma torpedo.

"Rotate the ship to keep the shields aligned with the destroyer. Lt. Hikowa, what is the charge on the MAC?"

"MAC capacitors at sixty nine percent. We can fire off two rounds." Hikowa responded.

"I think that's plenty enough considering what we've just seen. Get a targeting solution and fire when ready."

"Captain, I'm receiving an update from the Clarion drones." Wellesley intervened. "Covenant reinforcements are arriving in system."

"What? But I thought that the colony haven't called for backup."

"They didn't, Sir. They came on their own. A simple case of bad timing, it seems. I've identified three covenant frigates and another CCS class battlecruiser. They are moving to..."

Just then, a slipspace event appeared about four thousand kilometers from the combatants.

"... right over there." Wellesley finished.

The captain huffed at the news. "Nothing is ever simple, is it?"

"Captain, I still have the MAC solution on the destroyer." Hikowa informed.

For a moment, the captain was lost in thought as he considered his options. It would be a little while before the new covenant flotilla could engage them. Might as well lessen the odds in the mean time.

"Fire the main gun, lieutenant."

Two kinetic fusion rounds left the _Autumn_ and struck the last destroyer. One round struck the bow, dissipating the shield with the impact and blast before plasma splashed onto the hull and melted whole sections away. The second round struck aft and detonated near the reactor, instantly destroying what's left of the ship.

That one small victory aside, though, the _Autumn_ was now facing even worse odds than before. The covenant flotilla centered on the CCS battlecruiser fired fifteen plasma torpedoes at the _Autumn_.

There was no way that _Autumn_ could take that kind of firepower. But Keyes knew that they can't simply enter slipspace and withdraw from the fight. Even if the_ Truth and Reconciliation_ could make it into the Oort Cloud, the covenant could still comb the area to find her; it would be lengthy and tedious, but it was very much possible. In the greater scheme of things, though, the captain could not now permit any covenant survivors in the entire system to tell the tale. If the covenant command structure knew that they had lost the _Truth and Reconciliation,_ they would simply have their forces open fire on her whenever they saw her. The mission would end in failure unless Keyes wiped them out right down to the last grunt.

That meant that there was only one option left: Keyes would have to outmaneuver them all.

"Engines to full. Lovell, come about and plot a course to take us behind Caria V. Lt. Hikowa, use the phalanxes to buy us as much time as possible. Raise the ECM."

"May I ask to know what you plan to do, Captain?" Wellesley inquired.

Keyes grinned at the AI. "I'm going to take a page out of your book, Wellesley."

The _Autumn_ turned away from the incoming torpedoes and made for the icy planet at full speed. The Phalanxes flared nonstop as they shot at the leading torpedoes even as the plasmoids attempted to weave towards the electronic ghost signatures. The barrage and sensor distortions granted the Autumn just enough time to enter into orbit of Caria V and turn to the opposite side. The remaining eleven torpedoes shot pass the planet, their constriction fields unable to make the turn.

Wellesley updated the position of the covenant ships by the Clarion feed now that they no longer had direct sensor contact. Just as Keyes had hoped, the covenant was making for the other side of the planet, preparing to destroy the Autumn as she finishes her orbit.

But who said that all orbits have to be minimal energy paths?

"Lovell, adjust our course to take us to the planet's southern pole. Lt. Hikowa, ready a spread of five Harpoons and an ECM and archer volley, launchers A1 to J9. Plot their course to replicate our current trajectory."

Aki raised her eyebrow. That was just about every launcher on the ship, easily over seven hundred missiles. "But sir, I don't have any targeting data."

"We won't need it, Lieutenant. Now ready the barrage."

"Aye, sir."

"Ah, now I see." Wellesley commented as he wagged his finger at a jaunty angle. "Just like what I did to Napoleon at Waterloo. Ah, how I remember the sight of my Red Coats surprising the old guard from behind the ridge..."

The _Autumn_ fired it's maneuvering thrusters and made for the southern pole as it fired off a massive wave of missiles followed by a spread of three harpoon torpedoes. The mass of missiles and their ghost signatures became one large electronically incoherent blob as it orbited the planet and faced the covenant flotilla. Just as the flotilla fired everything they had at the missiles, the _Autumn_ crossed the southern pole.

"Send the detonation signals to the Harpoons." Keyes ordered.

"Transmitting detonation codes now." Wellesley announced.

Hidden by both their built in stealth system and the electronic chaos before them, the five Harpoon torpedoes detonated into five separate 125 megaton thermonuclear flares. The missile swarm cooked off far away from the covenant. Despite the distance between the blast and the target, the directed blast design and the sheer radiance of the thermonuclear reactions swamped half the system with electronic interference while draining the shields of the three frigates. The tight formation between the battlecruiser and her three escorts, however, combined with the strength of her shields to allow the CCS class to survive relatively unscathed.

As the electronic soup began to dissipate, the _Autumn_ finally turned the planet and gained a direct line of fire. With the covenant still reeling from the sucker punching missile volley, there was no time to waste.

"Fire all available missile pods at the battlecruiser." Keyes ordered. "Align the MAC to fire on the frigates, one round a ship."

"Targeting solutions confirmed, firing now." Hikowa replied.

The _Autumn_ took quick aim at the frigates, firing a single round before adjusting its aim to its next target and repeating the process. At the same time, a hundred missiles flew towards the covenant battlecruiser. One after another, the frigates flashed into oblivion. With her powerful shields still mostly in place, though, the covenant battlecruiser absorbed the missiles without any problems.

The captain resisted the urge to roll his eyes. He had hoped that the battlecruiser would sufficiently weakened by the harpoons for the second smaller missile volley to end her. But now the two ships were too close for either to escape the other. There was nothing to stop a head on battlecruiser vs battlecruiser slug match now. With her shields nearly back to full strength, the covenant battlecruiser opened fire. Eight plasma torpedoes poured out of the covenant battlecruiser's torpedo turrets and headed straight for the _Autumn_. But with the momentum she built up from her orbit, the _Autumn _wouldn't be able to turn away from this volley. The Phalanxes fired to intercept, but there was no way for them to bring down all seven torpedoes in time.

"Lt. Hikowa, fire another volley of Harpoons now! Set to detonate three hundred kilometers ahead of us."

The Lieutenant complied and another three Harpoons left the Autumn's forward launchers. The nukes detonated in front of the plasma torpedoes and dispersed the first four. But the remaining four continued on, shrugging off the the point defense fire. They smashed into the _Autumn_'s forward port sections, easily tearing through the prototype shields and ate into her armor belt.

The entire ship lurched to right as the _Autumn_'s reactive armor combusted and the ionic diffusers and CO2 pushed the plasma back out of the hull. Dozens of people on board were injured as the reaction threw the crew into the walls and bulkheads. Even the bridge crew were thrown off of their stations.

"Damage report!" The Captain demanded as he climbed back into his chair.

"Direct impact on sections G22 and K14 and decompression in nearby sections; emergency bulkheads sealing now. Damage control teams responding. Primary armor belt has been compromised. Missile pods C4 to F9 has been destroyed. Structural integrity holding. Nine killed and twenty wounded." Wellesley reported.

As bad as it was, Keyes knew that it could have been many times worse. But at least their combat power survived mostly unscathed. Any other ship in the fleet would have been finished after taking four plasma torpedoes.

"Covenant battlecruiser firing another volley!" Lt. Hall announced. Another seven torpedoes headed towards the Autumn. But this time, the torpedoes were spaced apart in a single file to prevent them from being dispersed by another nuclear volley.

They couldn't take another volley, and they couldn't really shoot back either. At this close range, even the focused blast Harpoons would weaken their shields enough for the plasma torpedoes to finish the _Autumn_ off. Nearly two-fifths of the ship's missile pods had been knocked out and worst of all they couldn't even train the MAC on the battlecruiser without making the ship a sitting duck. There was only one option left: a tactical withdrawal. It was time to act like a battlecruiser: kill what can catch you and outrun what can kill you.

"ECMs to full. Lt. Lovell, push the engines to one hundred and ten percent. Slingshot us around the planet again before setting for Caria IV."

"Understood, captain. "

"Care to share your insights, Captain." Wellesley inquired.

"The only way that we can kill that ship is to put her in front of us. And since we can't stand and fight, we'll have to make her come into out sights."

The _Autumn_ turned away from the covenant battlecruiser as the torpedoes curved to track her. But by pushing her already powerful engines over the limit, the ship managed to complete the planetary curve before the torpedoes could connect. But this time, the covenant battlecruiser gave pursuit. With her powerful engines at full blast to build up on her speed from the first orbit, however, the _Autumn _quickly outpaced her foe. The two ships broke orbit for Caria IV, though the _Autumn_ now had a considerable and growing lead. This gave more time and distance for the ECMs and Phalanxes to work. The covenant torpedoes began to lose their target lock on the _Autumn_ even as her point defense laser whittled away at the plasmoids. At the same time, the _Autumn's_ remaining launchers released one wave after another of firestorm and archer missiles with ECM cover to harass the covenant battlecruiser. The more powerful but slower covenant ship was being left further and further behind even as the missiles ate away at her shields, the volleys timed to prevent it from regenerating. Just as the _Autumn_ reach the gas giant's gravitational influence and prepared for another high speed orbit, the covenant battlecruiser was forced to break off to regenerate her shields.

"Engines are about to melt, sir." Lovell warned.

"Bring her down, Lieutenant, and divert more power to containment until she's back to normal. Adjust course for the northern pole. Then take us straight for the covenant gas mine."

"Sir, I'm detecting exotic particle emissions and gravitational ripples from the covenant ship. It looks like she's preparing to jump." Wellesley informed.

Far from concerned, the captain seemed reassuringly confident. "Good. My guess is that after being sucker punched last time, they'll jump right into the other side of the planet. But that's not where we're going."

The _Autumn_ crossed the gas giant's magnetic north pole and bared down on the gas mine. The facility was set up in a grid pattern with multiple spherical processing facilities attached to magnetic collectors which descended down into the planet's atmosphere. While a small fleet of freighters and transports buzzed around the mine, there was nothing that could offer any opposition. There was not a single warship or sign of a weapons mount anywhere.

"Ready another Harpoon volley and have the fighter wings make a sweep after us when they get the chance. We can't leave any survivors." Keyes ordered.

As the covenant freighters and transports retreated from the human battlecruiser, the _Autumn_ fired on them with archer missiles and her Phalanx turrets. Two harpoon torpedoes detonated about fifty kilometers away, breaking through the weak shields and vaporizing whole sections of the station. The shattered sections of the mine then fell into the gas giant, destined to be crushed under its extreme gravity.

"Receiving updates from Clarion drones." Wellesley said. "Covenant battlecruiser has jumped into the far side of the planet. They are making at full sublight speed to intercept us."

"A pity that it won't be fast enough." Keyes commented. "Lt. Lovell, adjust our course for the covenant colony on Caria III."

"Copy that, sir. Caria III, here we come."

Having finally finished its orbit, the covenant battlecruiser found that its quarry had already left the vicinity and was headed for the third planet. On Caria III, the docks and other orbital facilities prepared for battle. Unlike the mine on Caria IV, the docks were armed and shielded. Even the colony itself was protected with powerful shields. While they weren't battle stations, they could put up a fight.

But Keyes have no intentions of giving the covenant a chance to fight. The orbital docks were in geosynchronous orbits, easy target for a MAC. They could shoot them from the other side of the system if they wanted.

"Target the docks and the colony with the main gun, Lt. Hikowa. Give me a sustained barrage, but keep the MAC as fully charged as you can."

"Aye, sir. Bombarding the colony now."

Lt. Hall chuckled. "It feels good to be to be the ones saying that for once."

The captain couldn't agree more. After seeing so many colonies glassed by covenant ship bombardment, there was a morbid satisfaction to give the covenant a taste of their own medicine. The _Autumn_ fired her main gun in a slow sustained barrage. About every twenty seconds, another round left the barrel and smashed into the covenant orbital docks. Still far out of range of their weapons, the covenant could do nothing as their orbital stations vaporized or shattered and crashed onto the planet's rocky surface. When the last dock literally fell, Lt. Hikowa turned the gun on the colony itself. One round after another struck and hammered away at the shields. The protective field held, but Keyes didn't care. Destroying the colony, while a vital objective, could wait. The battlecruiser chasing him was the real priority. These high speed raids were nothing more than a means to force his opponent to bring themselves into his gun sights without having to put the _Autumn _in theirs.

"Confirm that MAC capacitors are charged." Keyes inquired.

"Capacitors are ninety five charged, Sir." Lt. Hikowa responded.

"Captain, I'm detecting another gravitational anomaly behind us. The covenant battlecruiser is preparing to jump."

The captain smiled. "Checkmate. Cease fire. Lt. Hikowa, turn the MAC over to AI control. Wellesley, keep an eye out for where the battlecruiser jumps in. As soon as you can get a targeting solution, fire away."

Wellesley took control of the ship's maneuvering thrusters and the MAC. With the capacitors at full charge and three kinetic fusion rounds in the chamber, he was ready to fire at a moment's notice.

Sure enough, the covenant battlecruiser appeared about five thousand kilometers of the _Autumn_'s port bow. Wellesley quickly swung the ship towards his target and fired before the battlecruiser could move. Three kinetic fusions struck fore, mid and aft ship, the last shot blowing the ship in half.

Once again, the cheers erupted across the ship. On the bridge, Keyes slumped into his chair and sighed. The battle was finally over, and they had won.

"Not too bad, sir. Twenty to one odds and you got seven kills." Wellesley commented. The AI even took its bicorn hat off, placing it on its holographic chest and bowed respectfully. "Nelson would have been proud. And I can tell you that for certain because I met the old chap once."

"Captain, I'm receiving a transmission from Cortana." Lt. Hall announced. "They've moved their ship into the Oort Cloud and are hunkering down. We've done it!"

The captain simply nodded at the Lieutenant. "I need a drink." Keyes said as he rubbed his forehead.

"There's still the matter of the colony, Captain." Wellesley reminded.

"Well, I think that we have the perfect opportunity to perform the first combat deployment of the Nova bomb."

* * *

As the _Pillar of Autumn_ turned away from Caria III, her starboard Number 2 cargo bay doors opened. A single large black sphere drifted out. Guided by chemical thrusters and hidden by her EM absorbent hull, it fell unnoticed upon the colony which was still protected by its powerful shields. When the _Autumn_ finally put about ten thousand kilometers away from the third planet, the Nova detonated. The lack of an atmosphere made the blast relatively short lived, but the 219 gigaton blast could have been mistaken for an asteroid impact. The two hundred kilometer wide fireball immediately consumed the entire colony. The resulting shock shattered the planet's crust before melting it.

The covenant rescue parties that later arrived made a few interesting discoveries. For the first time in a hundred million years, the formerly solid core Caria III had an ambient magnetic field and an orbital ring. It's orbit around the Caria sun was off, as was its rotation. A thousand kilometer wide crater had replaced the colony. The immediate evidence suggested an asteroid impact, but there were several countering evidences. For one thing, the system was littered with wreckage from covenant civilian and military vessels. Not a single high or mid rank officer was alive to tell the tale.

All of this pointed to an attack. Immediately, there were suspicions of this being a human strategic offensive, but they were quickly dismissed by the few survivors of the event. The only ones that were still alive who had been in the system at the time were the crews of a couple of freighters that had buggered off into slipspace right as the chaos began. Some relevant sensor records were recovered, but they were dismissed as corrupted for one reason: only a single human ship was spotted.

* * *

**1100 Hours, October 13th, 2552 (Military Calendar) / 1st Spartan Combat Group, Captured Covenant CCS-class Battlecruiser **_**Truth and Reconciliation**_**, Caria System, Sector 259. **

It was hard to believe that a single five man team could cause all of this. John surveyed the wreckage before him. The hangar had yet another support column crashed into the ground. Half the deck plate was scorched, another quarter slagged. Over two dozens holes, each at least three meters wide, were punched into the deck and bulkheads. There were so many 20mm holes in the wall that one could mistake it for a sponge. Dismembered bodies and severed limbs littered the floor. And it was the same throughout nearly half the ship. There were areas of the ship that John could walk through at full stride that not even the grunts before the battle could have.

"Wow." Kelly commented. "Just, wow."

It was a miracle that the ship's structural integrity hadn't been compromised. But there were so many holes in the walls, floor, and bulkheads that no sane Captain in the fleet would take her into combat lest the a single hole in the exterior hull cause the entire ship to depressurize. That particular hole near the number 3 barracks made John wonder how the Spearheads hadn't flushed themselves out into space.

"Come on." The commander said.

Kelly walked with John as the two continued their sweep of the ship. Their weapons were at the ready, though they hadn't encountered any covenant that wasn't already dead or dying. Still, so many systems, surveillance included, had been disabled that it was impossible to know with any certainty that the ship's last occupants had indeed been dealt with.

"Well, we did say that we wanted a distraction." Kelly continued. "They certainly delivered."

John couldn't contest that. Most of the covenant crew had been thrown into the battle for the main hangar. While the ODSTs and Noble Team had critical roles in consolidating their positions, it was Spearhead team that had broken the back of the covenant's resistance. That maelstrom that sucked in the crew's manpower and attention, combined with the Spartans' new active camouflage and experience in infiltration, made sneaking into the ship's engineering and environmental controls child's play. And as much as he was horrified by their methods, Nicole and her four lunatics did save a lot of lives. The Spartans hadn't taken any casualties and the ODSTs lost only six of their own with eighteen more wounded. It was a bargain by any standards considering the odds.

The two Spartans headed towards the number five barracks, though they doubted there would be any resistance. Spearhead five was already there, though he wasn't responding to any hails. Considering the sheer amount of punishment that the shock trooper had taken during the fight, it wasn't a stretch for his radio to be damaged.

They entered the door just in time to hear the bloody gurgles of death from a dying elite. The shock trooper was standing over the body, his massive hands gripping the alien's neck.

The grotesque state of the room disgusted the two Spartan-IIs, but somehow John was not surprised in the least. Plasma scorches and bloody smears, both purple and red, splattered the floor and walls. Dismembered bodies and severed limbs were in great abundance. The walls and support beams held the indentations of elite torsos as well as rips and dents with the imprints of a Mjolnir gauntlet. There were even scratch marks on the floor. What was conspicuously missing, though, was any human dead or spent shell casings. This was all done by hand.

The shock trooper stood up and Kelly gasped at the sight. Wa's helmet was off; John had just spotted it in the distance. The visor was shattered and the armor plating had deep cuts in it. His armor, once gunmetal black, was nearly purple and orange with covenant blood. But it was his face that horrified the two Spartans. The right half of his face was missing. Not even muscle was present, only a shiny titanium-C that his skeleton had been replaced with. He was frothing at the mouth and bleeding, but he seemed completely unconcerned with that. The shock trooper growled as he lifted the barely alive elite up into the air by his left hand. His hand wasn't around the alien's neck; it was in it, his fingers deep in the neck muscles. His right hand was buried in its sternum. Without ceremony, 514 ripped the elite in half, reveling in the purple gore. Roaring into the air, he tossed the cadaver aside and finally spotted John and Kelly.

No Spartan. John knew now that Wa-514 was no Spartan at all. As he looked into Wa's eyes, so bloodshot that the white was gone, all he saw was a monster, a killing machine that butchered for the sake of butchering. The blood lust was still there even as 514 looked at the two of them. With a twisted smile shot in his direction, John realized Wa's intent, and raised his rifle as the Shock Trooper charged at them.


	11. Chapter 11

**Disclaimer: I can't believe that this still has to be said, but Halo is all Bungie's. Any attempts to sue the author will net you at most one of my doomsday devices (Go ahead and take, I have more!).**

**A/N: I don't know who made a TV trope page for my fic, but you deserve a whole box of internet cookies. And I'd imagine that some of you might jump to a specific conclusion in this chapter, but let me tell you in advance: there are no pairings in this particular fic. Might set the conditions for a possible (and I stress possible) pairing in the sequel, though it's definitely not the one that is hinted here. Finally, there is a part that the particular object of Wa's confusion is ambiguous; this is intentional and shall be dealt with in the next chapter. **

**And ongoing thanks to my betas, Tikigod and vrbtny. They help make this story possible (and having some semblance to English instead of lower Slobovian).**

* * *

"_Spartans don't hurt other Spartans. And you are a Spartan. You are one of us." - Kelly-087_

* * *

**1100 Hours, October 13th, 2552 (Military Calendar) / 1st Spartan Combat Group, Captured Covenant CCS-class Battlecruiser **_**Truth and Reconciliation**_**, Caria System, Sector 259. **

The last phase of any boarding action is to sweep every nook and cranny on the ship to make sure that the new crew is not sharing their vessel with the old crew. So it would have come as no surprise to anyone aboard to see teams of Spartans and ODSTs patrolling the corridors and compartments of the _Truth and Reconciliation_, searching every viable hiding spot for Covenant survivors. There were few, though they were dealt with easily enough.

Among the sweeper teams were Spearhead team, minus their shock trooper. Though they were participating in the sweep, that was not their real objective at the moment. Rather, it was the whereabouts of the final missing member of their team, Wa-514. As they went about their search, it was noticeable to any passerby that they had their weapons at the ready.

"Shouldn't we call the Commander and tell him that's gone AWOL on FTB?" Richard asked.

"I've been trying, but he's not answering." Nicole responded. "I'll try to get Carter to help us."

"Ya know, if we need their help then it's already too late." Steven commented.

"Oh, stop worrying. You're not helping." Nicole shot back as she opened the channel.

It was worrying, and not just to Steven, but to the entire team. Every Spartan-IV knew what was going on, what FTB really meant. It was quite simple and effective, letting Wa vent his blood lust on the covenant after a battle in a controlled environment. It kept the monster within him in check. **F**eed **T**he **B**east now, before it feeds on you later. They could only hope that they'd be able to cordon off the area and let Wa take care of his "business" before any unfortunate personnel, including other Spartans, found him first.

"Noble one here. Go ahead, Spearhead." Carter announced through the channel.

"Spearhead one here. Requesting assistance. 514 FTB, but we're lost track of him."

A awkward silence lingered for a few moments. "Say again. You've lost track of him?"

"That's affirmative."

Now Carter's voice grew worried. "Does Blue one acknowledge?"

"Negative."

"Copy that. Noble is en route. Noble one out."

* * *

John couldn't believe that Wa could move this fast. Despite the massive weight of his armor and equipment as well as the... injuries to his face, the shock trooper was easily as fast as any Spartan. John's instinct to hold fire on another Spartan didn't help matters, but he shoved it aside; this thing, the shock trooper, was not a Spartan. Beside him, Kelly was frozen with shock and horror, her hands unable and unwilling to lift her weapon against Wa despite knowing that he meant to kill her and John.

There was no such hesitation in 514's eye. There was only blood lust and the joy of spotting new victims. This thing, this man-animal, didn't recognize them. There were no thoughts in his mind, only a maelstrom of power and rage. In this most primal state, Wa-514 didn't exist, only the behemoth that was Ackerson's last twisted creation. The iron smell of blood was in the air, and it would not stop until everything around it was dead.

There was not much distance between them. Time slowed as adrenaline kicked in. Even in this state of accelerated consciousness, John had to work to bring the SCR's sights onto his target. Wa charged towards them in a straight line, making no attempts to throw off John's aim. The Commander aimed for 514's head and fired.

The rounds connected with the shock trooper's skull, but not even the super 7's could pierce through his reinforced cranium. The rounds ricocheted off or detonated, ripping off more flesh and only throwing him off for a moment. John shoved Kelly, nearly catatonic, out of the way right before Wa was on them.

In all the years of combat, John had never felt anything hit him as hard as the Shock Trooper did. The two smashed into the walls, pushing clean through the bulkhead into the next compartment. John's armor automatically snapped into lock down. Pain flared through every neuron. Blood spurted out of his mouth as his blackened vision returned to normal. John's lungs struggled to draw air as he tried to push himself back up against the ruins of the back wall.

John reached for his sidearm. But before he could even take aim, Wa was already on him, sending the commander flying with a powerful backhand. For the second time in mere seconds, John was sent crashing into the bulkheads and leaving an armor indentation in the metal walls.

"John!"

Kelly's cry shook him out of his stupor. She had evidently shaken out of hers as well, stepping through the hole in the wall with her rifle at the ready. Wa turned on the newcomer, anxious for some real resistance, but John wasn't about to let him give Kelly the same punishment that he'd just been put through. Frantically searching for his pistol, he noticed it at the far corner of the room, out of his immediate range. Out of options, John electrified his gauntlet and reached for the shock trooper.

For the first time since the fight began, Wa howled in pain as megawatts of electricity coursed through him. Seeing his opening, John latched himself onto his back. As Wa tried to throw him off, John reached for his combat knife and plunged it into the shock trooper's throat. But the knife didn't cut through, simply sliding off and revealing a grayish black synthetic weave beneath the skin.

John recognized the material. It was a weave of carbon and inorganic nanotubes with sheer thickening fluid layers, the same fabric that is the primary component of the black body suit underneath the Mjolnir armor. That fabric was capable of stopping anything up to 14.5mm fire. The knife was not going to punch through in one strike.

John found his calf in a vice grip. Just as Wa was about to rip him off of him, John shocked 514 again and plunged the knife into his right eye right up to the hilt. As John leaped off the now-screaming shock trooper, Kelly took the initiative Spartan-Style: charging in and delivering a thrust kick into the knife, driving the knife almost entirely into his skull and finally dropping the shock trooper.

Kelly hesitated for a moment, her mind still reeling from shock of what she had just done to another Spartan. But she snapped out of the freeze and helped her commander back onto his feet, they heard an enraged roar. Wa rose to his feet with the knife embedded in his right eye. The shock trooper ripped the blade out and crushed it in his hand as blood poured out of a new wound.

"How is he still alive?" Kelly asked, a slight bit of panic in her voice.

"I don't know." John replied with a hoarse tone. He took Kelly's PDR from her back. But he knew that their weapons wouldn't help. If that knife to his cranium didn't stop Wa, nothing that they currently had on them would. John finally came to appreciate the degree to which Ackerson succeeded with Project Typhon. All the Spartan's training, all his experiences, counted for naught against an opponent who simply had no physical weaknesses.

There was only one option left.

They ran.

As the two Spartans bolted back through the hole in the wall, John attempted to open a channel to Cortana. The AI could send help. Before he could say a word, though, John caught at the corner of his vision a massive piece of deck plating coming right at them.

Then, darkness.

* * *

Kelly struggled for air as she struggled to push the deck plate off. It weighed almost as much as a warthog. She noticed that John wasn't helping her. Kelly took off her helmet, the visor had so many cracks that it obscured her vision. Taking a look around for her best friend, Kelly realized that he was out cold against the far wall; the impact had flung them to opposite sides of the compartment. She could hear the booming footsteps of the shock trooper. He was coming through the hole. Only a single patch of skin running from his forehead to his right eye was still there, the rest of his head exposed as metal.

Kelly struggled against the fear gripping her. She was afraid not for herself; as much of a juggernaut Wa was, she could leave him in the dust with her unrivaled speed and agility. She was terrified for John. Kelly was closer to Wa, but he ignored her and focused on John. The sad realization sunk in that there was nothing she could to save her best friend.

It was then that Kelly snapped. Memories of the past flooded into her mind. Memories of Sam, of Chi Ceti. Of how powerless she had been to save him. Of how John had all but ripped her away from Sam to save her. This time, though, the executioner was not the absolute vacuum of space, but one of their own. Time slowed around Kelly as she made her decision, a choice against all logic. The Spartan burst into action, her feet carrying her forward faster than she had ever been.

Kelly slid to a halt right in between Wa and the unconscious John, her arms splayed apart to block the path.

"Please. Don't kill him."

* * *

"Please."

He recognized that word. The man-animal didn't know who this person standing before him was, but he recognized her words. She stood before him, unarmed with her arms apart. She did not mean to fight. She could not fight.

She was defenseless, all but offering herself to slaughter.

"I don't know what Ackerson did to you. But it doesn't have to be like this."

The man-animal within was confused.

He hesitated.

It was the gaze of her eyes.

It reminded him of her.

* * *

The simple fact that she was still breathing gave Kelly hope. Wa looked confused, cocking his head as a child would. The red receded somewhat from his single-remaining eye. Not that this helped make his overall image any less terrifying, but it was a start.

From the start, it was obvious that her weapons and fists were useless against something like Wa. So what else could she use? The answer was the opposite of what Spartans, as well as any other soldier, were taught, something beyond the "fight-or-flight" instinct ingrained into them through hours, days, _years_ of training.

Her conciliatory words and her refusal to fight just might have a chance. While she was noted for her speed, a less-advertised trait she held above all other Spartans was her empathy. She had always been able to read others emotions, even non-Spartans, better than her brothers and sisters. While not normally a valuable trait for a Spartan to have, in this case it might save them both. Her instincts told her that this indiscriminate rage and blood lust possessing Wa was unnatural. Indeed, this almost seemed like an outside force. If she could break its hold over Wa, so would end his rampage.

Kelly pressed on.

* * *

"I know that what you are is not your fault. But you don't have to fight anymore. You don't have to fight." She pleaded. "Spartans don't hurt other Spartans. And you are a Spartan. You are one of us."

His shoulders slumped ever so slightly. Rage was draining from his eye, being slowly replaced with exhaustion.

Kelly smiled. He was responding to her pleas. Wa reached with his hand. His massive gauntlet touched her cheeks. Even though he had just tried to kill her and John and could crush even her augmented skull, Kelly didn't recoil.

Something moved at the corner of her vision. Then she felt something jerking her aside.

She saw John pushing her away, his gauntlet sparking with electricity.

"John, no!"

* * *

John landed an open hand strike right onto 514's jaw. The electrified blow stunned the shock trooper and gave the Commander his opening.

"Kelly, get out of here!" John shouted. He tackled Wa into the wall. Wa backhanded him, sending John skidding across the floor. As the shock trooper recovered, John pounced upon him again and streamed megawatts of electricity to his skull.

He should be dead. No one should be able to take that powerful an electrocution over and over and still be alive, much less standing. But nevertheless, it was at least working to weaken him. The flesh still clinging to Wa's skull charred.

Somehow, Wa was still able to fight back. John felt his leg in a vice grip before Wa ripped him off. With a solid grip on his lower calf, the shock trooper repeatedly smashed John against the walls and floor like a rag doll. He had lost track of how many times he had been smashed into the bulkheads. John only knew that it ended because he felt a massive fist pounding against his guts before Wa switched to pummeling the commander's face, cracking his helmet like an egg.

"Please, stop it. Both of you." Kelly shouted as she tried to intervene again.

This time, however, Wa barely noticed her, opting to roughly shove her away as he attempted to go after John again. As for the Commander, he was struggling to breath and stay conscious, fighting not to choke on his own blood. He was fairly certain due to this that his left lung had collapsed. He was also aware that a number of his ribs, not to mention his arms and left leg were definitely broken or dislocated- in some cases both. To top it all off, his tendon was torn. Honestly, he had been shot, blown up, burned, bludgeoned, stabbed and even all of them at once a couple times before, but this was the first time he had ever felt so completely incapacitated.

He could barely move, let alone fight back.

John knew that this was the end for him. He had always imagined that he would meet his maker on the battlefield against the covenant. He was sorry not for dying itself, but that it would be absolutely meaningless. Another wasted life. Compounding this, a pit formed in his stomach as he realized that Kelly would be here to watch it. It had been hard enough on her to leave Sam behind. Being forced to watch his passing would be too cruel. He almost wanted to tell her to leave, to apologize for having it happen right before her eyes.

Abruptly, he heard a scream, though it wasn't Kelly's, Wa's or even his own. It had a distinctly masculine tone, though it was distorted by something else that John couldn't put his finger on at the moment. Before he could contemplate this, however, a massive armored boot stomped right in front of his field of vision as Wa struggled to regain balance.

Then John finally saw it. There was another Spartan on the shock trooper's back. It was Richard-701, the pint-sized assault specialist of Spearhead team. Before Wa could react, more Spartans threw themselves onto him in order to restrain him. Their combined strength and weight was enough to hold him back, barely. Wa attempted to throw them off and to smash them against the bulkheads and succeeded with a couple, but they latched themselves back onto him as more Spartans jumped into the fray.

"Someone grab the other leg!" Carter shouted as he hung on Wa's left leg and tried to unbalance the shock trooper before 514 smashed him loose against Jorge.

"We could use some help here!" Jorge shouted at Kelly as he picked himself off the floor and jumped onto Wa's shoulder, prompting Kelly to join in. A total of eleven Spartans latching themselves onto every part of his body finally brought Wa down to the floor. That was the last he saw of the scene before darkness once again claimed him.

* * *

"Come on, big guy. Snap out of it." Steven shouted as he hung onto Wa's forearm. For his trouble, Steven found himself flung off into the distance again.

Nicole locked her arms around Wa's neck in a choke hold. They knew that even a Spartan strength choke hold could only slow him down thanks to Ackerson's augmentations that ensured that his airways could never be totally restricted. But that might be enough to calm him down.

"It's me, Wa. It's Nikki."

With another feral roar, lifted his right arm and smashed Jonathan and Kat into the ground, breaking their hold on him before kicking them away. With his free arm, he ripped the other Spartans off of him one by one and sending them across the compartment.

The was one last Spartan still hanging onto his back. Wa reached over his shoulder, gripping the last Spartan by the neck as he brought his arm back.

Then her saw her eyes again. But this time, Kelly's eyes weren't pleading with him. They were in pain. She was struggling to breath as his iron grip threatened to snap her neck.

At that sight, conscious thought streamed back into Wa's mind. Why was he doing this to her? What did she do to deserve this? Why are so many Spartans lying dazed and wounded on the ground? The blood red mist coloring his vision faded away. That overpowering desire to wring flesh from bone simply disappeared.

The stinging pain came next. His flesh was on fire, but his head was freezing. As the last of the sea of adrenaline drained away from his system, 514 released his grip on Kelly, dropping her onto the ground before collapsing himself.


	12. Chapter 12

**Disclaimer: I can't believe that this still has to be said, but Halo is all Bungie's. Any attempts to sue the author will net you at most one of my doomsday devices (Go ahead and take, I have more!).**

**A/N: So after getting a lot of feedback from you, the readers, I've decided to make a small rewrite of this chapter. Looking back, what I did with the whole of Noble team was a little extreme. The edits pertain to that particular scene with what I think is a more rational outcome considering the situation. I've also tried to explain why Commander-117 wasn't really warned. Please use the review on Chapter 1 or 2 to leave any comments as the site does not allow more than 1 review per person per chapter. **

**Regarding what people have said of the covenant tech upgrade, I feel like I have to give my interpretation of the matter. The conventional interpretation is that covenant tech is static because of their religious doctrine. I myself maintain that line, but my interpretation is not a restriction on advancing the applied technologies but rather the theoretical understanding behind them. My reasons for this is that it makes it more plausible to build an interstellar empire with a functioning economy and it gives me some room to make new guns. It is not innovation so much as reinvention (a murky topic, yes, but I ask for the benefit of the doubt). The underlining theoretical understanding remains the same even if the applied forms are different (say the difference of needle rifle's single shot vs the three needle burst of my Needle Carbine) . That said, I have heeded the comments on timing of the upgrades and I'm going to compromise on the issue. The old covenant weapons are back, but with slight modifications to accept the Mk1 power cells. The 'new' new weapons of mine like the Brute Spike Rifle and the Plasma Pike will remain, but my 'new' old weapons are gone for now though. The Human weapons will stay as it is in my upgraded forms until my next leap in technology. Please refer to my forum page on this site for more info. **

**You'll notice that there is a short revelation in here regarding Kat. It will be expanded upon in the next few chapters. Just keep in mind that this fic is AU. **

**And hearkening back to what I said the last chapter, again there is no pairings in this fic.**

**Finally, ongoing thanks to my betas, Tikigod and vrbtny. They help make this story possible (and having some semblance to English instead of lower Slobovian). Tikigod in particular deserves your praise as I'd say that a good half of this chapter wouldn't have come together as it did without him. For this, tiki, you can have one of my doomsday devices. Just don't press the the little red button and the big red button at the same time. That pushes it from apocalypse mode to divide by zero mode.  
**

* * *

"_They're Spartans, yes. But they're not your Spartans, at least not yet anyway." - Colonel George Yang_

* * *

**1500 Hours, October 21st, 2552 (Military Calendar) / UNS **_**Pillar of Autumn**_**, Battle Group Stanforth, Interstellar Space, Sector 197. **

John groaned as his mind returned to the land of the living. His entire body was writhing with pain, though he could feel the numbing effects of pain killers lingering in his blood stream. As his vision cleared up, the Commander noticed a few things. First, he wasn't on the floor and in his armor but rather on a very comfortable bed wearing a hospital gown with an IV drip in his arm and plenty of bandages all around his body. Second, in a medical bay of a UNSC ship with a few doctors and nurses milling around calmly tending to some of the wounded ODSTs. The final thing he noticed was that he wasn't without company.

"It's about time you woke up. Enjoyed your beauty sleep, Commander?"

Cortana's blue avatar was floating above a holotank next to his bed. Kelly was here too, wearing fatigues and sitting in a chair beside him. For a moment, she looked happy to see him awake, but that was quickly replaced with a scathing glare and a disapproving nod.

What the hell did he do deserve this?

"Where am I?" John asked groggily as he struggled to remember why he was laying in a med bay.

"You're back on the _Autumn_. You've been in a chemically induced coma for an entire week." Cortana answered.

Now it all came flooding back to him. The boarding action to seize the _Truth and Reconciliation_. Finding that … feral animal... happily butchering the covenant before turning on him and Kelly. His fruitless attempts to stop Wa despite all of his attempts and the savage beating he had received for his efforts. The flashes of the shock trooper smashing him back and forth against the bulkheads before pummeling his midsection was enough to cause John to twitch with phantom pain.

"How do you feel, Sir?" Kelly asked as she passed him a bottle of water.

The commander gladly took the bottle and emptied its content down his parched throat. "Bad enough that I wished that you had kept me in that coma for another week."

Kelly handed John another bottle as Cortana spoke up. "Well, I assume that you'll want to know that we've rendezvoused with Admiral Stanforth's battle group in sector 197. The _Autumn_ is undergoing repairs for battle damage while we're getting the _Truth and Reconciliation_ back up to shape. With the intel we've taken, the Admiral is sending out prowlers to recon our next potential targets."

That was all good to hear. But that was not what he wanted to know right now.

"I guess that I have you to thank for routing in the back up."

"Yep. You might not have said anything, but an open channel with sound of someone getting their ass handed to them is the usually a call for back up." Cortana quipped.

"So where is he?"

"Fred has Wa locked in cargo bay five with Blue and Noble teams to guard the entrance." Kelly provided. "So far, Wa hasn't tried to leave."

At least they have him contained. "We should place a couple HMGs in the corridors to lock the entrance down."

"We don't have to do that, Sir." Kelly interjected. "He won't leave the bay. He has no reason to."

Before he could say anything else, Kelly gave John a look that made it clear that she wanted to talk right now.

Cortana picked up on it as well. "Oookay. I can take a hint. Call me when you're ready to continue with your briefing, Commander."

The AI flickered away. Kelly pulled the curtains to give them a little more privacy. For now, they weren't a Commander and a Lieutenant, but just two childhood friends.

"I'm glad you're fine, John, but you can really be an ass sometimes." Kelly began.

"What are you talking about?"

"You and Wa. The two of you trying to kill each other. That's what I'm talking about."

Now John was really confused. Kelly made it sound as if he had been responsible for his most recent near death experience.

"Why are you trying to defend him, Kelly? You were there. He tried to kill us. He tried to kill _**you**_."

"And I had him calmed down and about ready to stop right before you knocked me out of the way and pissed him off again. And there was something else going on in that fight. Something with you."

"I was trying to save us both. There was nothing else on my mind."

Kelly shook her head. "Oh, there was definitely something else there, John. I don't know what's going on, but when you got back up the second time... I don't know how to describe it, but if felt like you wanted to kill him just as much as he wanted to kill you."

John didn't bother responding to that line, instead letting the sheer ridiculousness of the notion sink in with Kelly.

"Okay, maybe not **as** much, but you get my point. You wanted to kill him when stopping him would have been enough. Need I remind you that he was ready to stop until you tried to burn him to a crisp and got yourself beaten to a bloody pulp for it."

John rolled his eyes. He didn't need to be reminded of that particular experience again. "I'll make a note to be a little more careful in that situation in the future. But I wouldn't hold my breath waiting for something like that to happen again outside of him."

"Don't try to dodge the question, John."

John sighed. How does he even begin to explain it to her?

"I don't know how to explain it, but there is just something about the entire Spearhead team that puts me off."

"It's more than that, John. Spearhead is more than a little quirky, but they're alright for the most part. And I know that you think that too. But it's specifically something between you and Wa that worries me."

John didn't answer her. Usually, he was one to tackle problems head on, but this one that he simply wished would go away. Seeing that he wanted some time alone, Kelly left her chair and opened the curtain.

"Whatever you decide to do, John, just remember that it isn't his fault that he is what he is."

John laid back onto his pillow as Kelly closed the curtain behind her.

"That's no excuse."

* * *

No Spartan enjoys inactivity, even for medical reasons. Spartan-117 was no exception, though the temptation to make this a one-off was there. It had been a few days since he had woken up. The other Spartans had visited him and brought reports when Cortana couldn't be bothered, but it was time to get back on his feet. The Commander stepped off of his bed and changed into fatigues.

"You know, mother warned me that a doctor's order doesn't mean much to you." Cortana commented.

John finished donning the black and green BDUs and turned to the AI. "I'll be fine. It's not like I'm running into battle right away."

"No, but I'm pretty sure that you'd do exactly that if the opportunity ever came up." Cortana sighed before deciding to continue with her briefing. "Why do I even bother? Anyway, the _Autumn_ is going to require at least another week in dock with the _Ironworks_ to finish our repairs. We lost half of our weapons outside of the MAC during the fight but the shield and armor belt managed to keep the damage to the exterior hull. Would be sooner if the work crews didn't have to split their time with the _Truth and Reconciliation_."

"And why is HighCom sending Admiral Stanforth's entire battle group with us?"

"Well, they surmised that regardless of how stealthy we are going in, we'll probably wind up having to shoot our way back into friendly space after we bag a prophet."

John huffed at the idea. "That's reassuring. So how many ships do we have with us?"

"Aside from the _Autumn_ and the repair platform _Ironworks, _we have three of the _Autumn_'s sister ships and two carriers and their escorts. In the meantime, Colonel Yang is leading the effort to strip every non-essential piece of equipment from the _Truth and Reconciliation_ and trying to record how the rest of it functions. He's also having me work on a couple side projects for him."

It was then that the aforementioned Colonel in his trademark black trench coat waltzed into the medical bay.

"Well, speak of the devil." Cortana commented.

The two officers exchanged salutes.

"You should be in bed, Commander." Yang began.

"I'm ready for duty now, Sir."

The colonel scoffed at the comment. "That's what Six tells me every time." Yang turned to Cortana and shook his head. "Spartans, they're all the same."

The AI simply giggled at the scene.

"Anyway, I'm here on business with the Commander and I need some time with him in private. Why don't you have yourself transfer over to the _Truth and Reconciliation_, Cortana. I'm going to need your help there with Project Minutiae."

At that piece of news, Cortana lit up like a child at a birthday party. "Admiral Stanforth approved it?"

The colonel simply nodded. Cortana flashed away in an instant, leaving a slight chuckle with the Colonel.

"She's easy to please, isn't she?"

"Project Minutiae, Sir?" John inquired.

"Just a little cyberwarfare project that I'm running. But I digress. I'm sure that you have some questions for me."

That's an understatement if John ever heard one. "Why didn't you tell me about Spearhead and 514 in particular, Sir?"

Yang's eyebrow piqued on that one. "Well, you should have asked. You're not a Master Chief anymore, Commander. Don't expect that kind of information to be handed to you on a silver platter."

John was truly shocked at the Colonel's sheer ambivalence with the matter. "I'd say that the mental state of the soldiers assigned to me is a matter worthy of a simple statement, Sir."

"True, but at the same point I imagined that you got around to talk to each of the Spartan-IVs. A Commander is expected to have the initiative to ask questions."

"Yes, Sir. I have no problems with Noble Team; they performed excellently. But the Spearheads... the sheer chaos that they've caused..."

"... and the number of lives they've saved?" The colonel interjected. "You've seen the combat footage. Tell me with your educated estimation how many lives would have been lost if the Nobles and the ODSTs had assaulted the covenant positions without Spearhead team?"

John hated rationalizations, but he had to give the colonel this. The final phase of that engagement was essentially a frontal assault across an average of two hundred meters of open space against entrenched covenant forces. By his own guess, sixty percent casualties would have been the absolute minimum.

"But enough about that. I imagine that you want to know more about Project Typhon."

At just the mention of the phrase, the imagine of that metallic skull and feral eyes flashed into John's mind. "I mean no offense, Sir, but you should have warned me."

"I would apologize for it, Commander, but it's a subject that Wa prefers to deal with himself." The Colonel continued. "Both the IVs and I myself respect his want for privacy in this regard. They rarely speak about it unless prompted. And I imagined that Wa gave you the whole 'stay the fuck out of my way' schtick that he gives to everyone he works with."

John scoffed at the Colonel. "That wasn't a friendly warning, Sir. That was a threat. And he wasn't exactly specific."

"Yes, well with Wa, the two are quite interchangeable. And he does use a lot of inference."

"I don't know what Ackerson did to him, Sir. But he's not human, is he?"

"No, I'd say that he's perfectly human. Well, more proto-human to be more precise."

"Proto-human, Sir?"

"Project Typhon required physical tolerances that far exceeded what any Homo Sapien could offer. So Ackerson decided to look a little farther back in the evolutionary ladder to meet his needs. He decided that what he needed was the brain of a Homo Sapien combined with the body of a Neanderthal. A man-animal, if you will."

_Man-animal. _That was the perfect description for 514.

"Even before Ackerson put the Shock Trooper candidates through his month long marathon of surgical augmentations, he was altering them, regressing them if you want, on a local genetic level. Their brains were left untouched, but everything else was altered. Just imagine, if an augmented Spartan without his armor is as strong as a Neanderthal, just how strong would one of those Neanderthals-turned-Spartan be? That was the logic behind it. Of course, the increased power had a corresponding decrease in mental control. And Ackerson was all but torturing them non-stop to make sure that they could tap that potential. Add to that accelerated universal cellular regeneration, redundant organs, system decentralization, skeletal replacement, and I'd say even the term "killing machine" doesn't properly describe him."

John shook his head. It still doesn't make sense. "Maybe it's just me trying to make sense of Ackerson's insanity, Sir, but he turned them into mindless killing machines. I can't understand how he would control someone like Wa."

Yang shook his head. "You're missing the point. The Shock Troopers were never meant to be controlled; they were meant to be unleashed, to smash a hole through the covenant lines for the IIIs to exploit. In my own opinion, the fact that Wa has any control at all is a miracle and a testament to his willpower."

John eyed Yang suspiciously. "You call that an accomplishment, Sir? I've seen civilians with PTSD with more control than him."

"Well let's leave that matter aside for now. What's important at the moment is what you plan to do about the situation?"

Sitting in his hospital bed the last few days, John was left with a lot of time over the last few days to ponder what to do with 514. A more feral part of John just wanted to watch the shock trooper fly out the airlock, but John was a soldier, not an executioner. Though it could be seen as the coward's way out, John would be content to see Wa sent away to become someone else's problem. That, or they could just put him in an escape pod and shoot him down to some uninhabited world (A fair compromise in his opinion).

"I would appreciate it if you would have him transferred out when the _Ironworks_ leaves, Sir."

Yang shook his head in disapproval. "Commander, remember what I said about stop thinking like a Master Chief. You're a commander now and the 1st Spartan Combat Group is your formation. You decide whether or not he stays. It's your decision to own. If you want him gone, then you just have to put in the paperwork. Just be prepared to live with the consequences."

Again, John was confused. "What do you mean by that, Sir?"

"The IVs know what Wa is and they accept him despite it. They consider him one of their own. I can tell you for certain that morale will drop like a rock with Noble and Spearhead teams. Aside from degrading Spearhead's staying power, you might have some unintended side effects with your decision."

"They're Spartans, Sir. They'll do what is expected of them."

A sad smile curled on the Colonel's lips. "They're Spartans, yes. But they're not your Spartans, at least not yet anyway."

* * *

Kelly popped the vent cover at cargo bay five, twisting her body to slip through. She could feel the cold sub-zero air on her face. He preferred this frigid temperature for some reason. At least this time she brought a jacket to keep her warm. It was so cold that her boots would stick to the floor a little with every pace as Kelly slowly weaved through the small maze of crates and boxes.

Kelly spotted her quarry sitting cross-legged on some crates, wearing his over-sized BDUs. Far from being bothered by it, the stinging cold seemed to bring him a rare measure of peace. His eyes opened to spot the newcomer. He already knew that it was her again. He probably heard her footsteps coming in, not that she was trying to hide them. Trying to sneak up on him was not only pointless and futile, but outright detrimental to her goals. The two stared at each other for a while, Wa's eerily calm gaze meeting Kelly's inquisitive eyes.

She was still amazed every time she looked at his face. While John had been in the medical bay for over a week getting patched up, Wa had already healed without even seeing a medic. The first time she had come to see him, the day after the incident, his face had only scar tissue and his missing eye was visibly growing back. By that night, one wouldn't know from looking at him that John had stabbed him in the eye and burned his face off. As a Spartan, she couldn't help but be slightly jealous of his far more impressive healing ability, though it still unnerved her somewhat.

"How are you feeling today?" Kelly began. She hoped for an answer this time, but didn't expect one. Every time she had sneaked in to talk to him, Wa wouldn't respond. He would just stare at her, sometimes mechanically, other times inquisitively. Still, she had a lot of questions and only Wa had the answers.

She hopped onto one of the crates and took seat opposite of 514.

"I'm not leaving this time until you say something." Kelly declared.

For the next twenty minutes, the two sat in the sub-zero cargo bay with not a word between them. Wa was nearly completely still while Kelly shivered slightly despite her coat and her best attempts to ignore the chill. Just as she was certain that frostbite was setting in, Wa stood up, walking over the the environmental controls and raising the temperature. A blast of warm air finally stopped Kelly's shivers.

"Thank you." Kelly said as she rubbed the feeling back into her face.

"You're very brave to come in here unarmed and without your armor." Wa responded, his voice oddly commending and threatening at the same time.

"I don't need it. You won't be able to catch me. Besides, I get the distinct feeling that you have no intentions of laying a hand on me."

"You're awfully confident considering that I put the Commander in the med bay and almost snapped your neck."

To Wa's surprise, Kelly smiled at him. "It's in your eyes. There's not a hint of malice behind them right now. I'm very good at reading what other people are feeling. You might as well wear your emotions on your sleeve."

Wa grumbled, which came out as a sort of growling noise, but Kelly remained calm. 514 was annoyed that she was getting underneath his skin, but he was far from enraged – something that gave Kelly a guilty sense of satisfaction.

"What are you here for?"

"Answers." Kelly responded. "And because I think that you could use some company."

Wa narrowed his eyes. "What are you getting at?"

Kelly maintained her poker face with an innocent smile. "Is it so wrong for a Spartan to want to spend some time with another Spartan?"

Wa let out an odd mix of a growl and scoff. "What makes you think that I'm really a Spartan?"

"It's in your designation, isn't? The Spartan Shock Trooper? And the IVs seem to think so. Considering that they're all in complete agreement about it, I think I'll defer to their judgment."

Wa scoffed at her statement. "Argumentium ad numerium, a classical fallacy of logic. And labels are just labels. In my case, a particular Colonel decided to slap 'Spartan' in front of the 'Shock Trooper' label."

Despite having just picked apart her argument, Kelly smiled at him. Then he realized that she had just tricked him into an actual conversation despite his attempts to avoid one.

"So there is an intelligent person underneath all that rage." Kelly noted.

"Leave me alone!" Wa roared. It was the first time since the fight that he showed any trace of rage. But as soon as it appeared, the shadow of that monster within him retreated as if it was unwilling to harm her. Kelly knew that she was pushing too far too fast for his comfort, but she wanted to help and she had to find his reason for letting her go.

"What is it you really want?" Wa all but groaned.

"Well for starters, I would like to know why you decided to let me live when you could have finished me off." Kelly said.

Wa's head dipped in resignation. "If I tell you, will you leave me be?"

Kelly nodded.

Wa's eyes were solemn as his voice when he finally gave Kelly her answer. "You and the commander. How you reacted when I was about to kill him reminded me of her."

This was it. Whoever "her" was, she was responsible for both her and John still being alive.

"Who was she?" Kelly inquired.

Wa gave no answer. Instead, he once again walked over to the environmental controls and killed the heating. As the bay's temperature slowly bled away into the vacuum, Kelly knew that she was at the end of his patience at least for today. She wasn't going to get anymore out of him for now.

"I appreciate you talking to me this time. I'll be back tomorrow." Kelly said before she pulled the vent cover off and stuck her leg through.

"Mei Ling." Wa said softly, barely loud enough for Kelly's augmented hearing to pick up on it. She turned around, meeting his gaze once more. "Her name was Mei Ling. She was my little sister."

* * *

_They're Spartans, yes. But they're not your Spartans, at least not yet anyway._

What did the Colonel mean by that? Now back in the bunks with the other Spartans, John's mind couldn't help but wander back to those words as he cleaned his SCR. The Commander chastised himself. How did wondering whether or not to change the caliber of his rifle morph into a mental exercise in rhetoric?

At the corner of his vision, John spotted Kelly walking into the barracks. Oddly enough, she had a winter jacket in her hands. She put the coat aside and took to her customary bunk next to his own, saluting as she passed him.

"Where did you go that you needed a coat?" John asked.

"I just found this thing lying around. I'm going to hand it off to detail." Kelly answered, making sure that she looked away from John. Now he was piqued. Spartans are good at just about everything they've ever really put their mind to with with one singular exception: lying. Sure they had been trained to lie if it suited the mission, they _had_ been trained with espionage in mind before the Covenant showed up after all, but they'd spent their childhoods – essentially their entire _lives_ around one another. Kelly's body language alone spoke volumes. John wondered why she was even trying.

Before he could push the issue, though, a very loud disturbance filled the room. A small mass of people all but shoved their way through the Spartans to get to the Commander.

"Get the fuck out of my way!" Richard shouted as he pushed past Issac. Behind him, the four Spartans of Spearhead team followed. They formed up around John's bunk. The other Spartans turned their attention to them. All six members of Noble team closed to see what's going on.

"Sir, we need to talk." Nicole began.

"About what?" John asked.

"Cortana has informed me that you intend to transfer Wa out of the operation."

John mentally sighed. He should have seen this coming. "That's correct."

"Sir, I understand that it's well within both your jurisdiction and your right after the... incident... But I have to say that it would be a mistake."

John stood to meet them eye to eye. "With all due respect, Lieutenant, I think otherwise. I don't know what 514 is, but he's definitely not a Spartan. He has no place in this operation. Considering what he did, he's getting off light."

There was an air of desperation around the Spearheads with Nicole in particular as she continued. "Sir, that incident was a one off. I accept full responsibility for Wa's actions and I promise that I'll do whatever it takes to convince you that it won't happen again. What he brings to the fight justifies a second chance."

The Commander wasn't convinced otherwise; he doubted that anything could. "My decision is final, Lieutenant. Dismissed."

"Oh, fuck this shit!" Richard shouted. "Fuck that! And while we're at it, fuck you too, Commander!"

"Rich! Cool it!" Nicole chastised.

"No, Nikki. Not this time. Spearhead is a bundled package. You get rid of Wa, you lose me"

John had never experienced "silence so strong it was audible" off the battlefield before. He decided that it was just as unnerving now as it ever was. Not unexpected, considering a "Spartan" had just refused orders. John was starting to wonder if Mendez had actually trained _any_ member of Spearhead.

Richard drew his sidearm, ejected the magazine, and threw the pistol at John's feet.

Jonathan drew his sidearm and did the same. "Me too."

His twin brother followed suit. "You won't have my rifle."

Nicole clenched her eyes shut and presented her pistol to her CO. She almost looked like she was in pain, but evidently her loyalty to her team trumped any loyalty she may have had to him. "I'm sorry, sir. I can't follow you in this case.

There was a visible twitch in John's stature. He was incensed, outraged even. He accepted Nicole's pistol. "I expected better from you." John said, his tone ice cold. "I've had enough of all of you. If you want to join him, then so be it. We'll complete this mission without you. Noble team, take them to cargo bay five."

Before anyone could say anything, there was the sound of another pistol magazine clinking onto the floor plates.

"You'll have to take me too, Sir." Kat announced as she let her pistol drop at John's feet.

"Kat!" Carter shout though clenched teeth. "Stand down!"

Kat looked at her CO with apologetic eyes. "I'm sorry, Carter, but not this time."

"Kat, you don't have to do this." Steven said

"Yes, I do." Kat replied.

Nicole had a sad smile on her face. "Once a Spearhead, always a Spearhead."

Six looked on with pure confusion, though mixed with the expression of a passive neutral observer. Emile and Jun looked at Kat with part sorrow, part understanding, and part admiration. They won't follow her, but it was evident that a part of them wished that they could. Jorge nodded with understanding, but it was clear whose side he was on.

John's eyes were wide as he stared at the assembled Spartan-IVs, anger momentarily forgotten as his mental image of a Spartan nearly collapsed before his eyes. The Spearheads were traitors and the Nobles still have sympathy for them! He had the presence of mind to keep his mouth closed as Kelly gripped his arm. Her eyes told him that she was with him no matter what, but they were also pleading him not to do this. Nevertheless, the chain of command had been violated. Even if he had wanted to, John could show no mercy to traitors.

John clenched his knuckles, anger returning. "No Spartans." He cursed the Spearheads. Nicole and Kat flinched at the verbal stab, but the rest of Spearhead team remained defiant. "We'll finish this mission without any of you. Still, if you're going so far as to defect as a team, I suppose it won't be too hard for you to get your asses down to cargo bay five as a team."

Nicole and Kat saluted him less than enthusiastically as they turned and left while Richard and the twins presented the one finger salute. When they were gone, John turned around and slammed his fist into the wall, leaving a visible dent, and making the normally stoic Spartans present jump.

How could this happen? Spartans were supposed to be the ideal soldiers. The twins and Richard, John grasped as the mistakes of the Spartan program. But he just couldn't wrap his head around Nicole and Kat. Until now, they were true Spartans to him. He looked up, briefly.

"On second thought, Will, go make sure they don't make any detours."

"If I may, Sir." Carter interjected, his tone sad and conflicted. "They are our own. Please let Noble team escort them down. We'll guard them and make sure nothing else happens."

The only response the remaining Nobles got from the Commander was a weak nod. No one was willing to break the awkward silence.

* * *

John's arms strained as he benched the heavily laden barbell. Despite his recent injuries, the commander was pushing 500 kg, enough that even Sam would have been envious. He had crossed a hundred reps a long time ago. But the sting was infinitely better than letting his mind wander back to the disaster mere hours ago. Scuttlebutt around the ship had caught wind of what happened in the Spartan barracks. Rumors were floating about thanks to the ODSTs, some so sulfurous that it made John want to spit. He wanted to get away from the barracks, away from the scene where he had just fractured his command.

The Commander racked the bar and lifted himself from the bench to stretch. There were plenty of people around, but they all gave the Spartan a wide berth. There was an air around him explicitly warned others from bothering him.

But one man dared to grab John's attention.

"Care to join me, Commander?"

John turned his head to the boxing ring where Major Silva was leaning forward onto the ropes. Like John, the ODST wore a simple black and green gym shorts and tank top.

"Unless you don't think that you're up for it." Silva continued in a mocking tone. "That was quite a beating you took. No one would blame you for taking it slowly."

A small crowd was gathering; they could smell the bad blood in the air.

Lt. McKay stepped forward from the crowd. "Sir..."

Silva raise his hand to cut her off, his venomous stare never leaving the Spartan. "It's okay, lieutenant. Just a little friendly sparring. Right, Commander?"

John felt an uncomfortable sense of deja vu. He knew almost too well that he shouldn't rise to Silva's baiting. He more than anyone else knew how this would probably end. But for him, any distraction was better than thinking about Noble and Spearhead Team. There was also the fact that a part of him wanted to settle the situation between him and Silva, and by extension all the ODSTs, once and for all.

Spartan-117 stepped into the ring.

The two soldiers shook hands, but their grip was iron and lingered for a moment longer than needed. Despite the crushing grip, Silva was steady with a lethal grin on his face. The two soldiers parted and took their stance. The marines and crewmen made bets with the ODSTs cheering on their CO. The only exception to all of this was Lt. McKay, looking on with worry. She knew that there was very real possibility that only the Commander would walk out of that ring alive.

John made the first strike, a quick jab to Silva's abdomen with his motion slowed down to prevent any injuries and to make for a fair fight. Silva parried the blow and made his own strike. The two went back and forth for a couple of minute, testing the others defenses.

"Heard about the little situation you got yourself into back on the covie ship." Silva mentioned as he attempted to sweep John's right leg.

"If you want to talk, Major, I suggest that you limit it to matters pertaining to the two of us." John replied as he closed into the arc to block Silva's strike, attempting to bump the ODST's leg up to catch his thigh. Silva backed off before he was caught in John's trap.

"Oh, but I think that it _is_ pertinent to the two of us, not to mention the mission." Silva continued with his taunts as he rushed in, trying to force John into a clench. After seeing John backing off, Silva did the same to maintain his stance. "It was another Spartan that beat you to within an inch of your life. It raises the question of the mental stability of a major element in this mission's strike force."

John mentally kicked himself for actually paying attention to Silva's taunts. Worse still, they were working. The Spartan's jaws clenched as John struggled to remain in control.

"It was that big one, wasn't it?" Silva asked as he launched another jab. This time, he didn't hold back, but John blocked the blow without any difficulty. The mad grin on the helljumper's face could have been mistaken for a hyena. "Must have been brutal. I saw how that freak was tearing into the covies with his bare hands. I've seen the hunters be more merciful than he was."

The two clashed again, this time locking into a clench. "You have a point, _Major_?" John said through clenched teeth, exerting himself to hold back rather than holding Silva in the lock.

Silva chuckled. "My point, _Commander_, is that frankly, I find it refreshing. I mean, you're all freaks, but at least _that one_ is honest about being a murderous automaton who'd slaughter a couple Marines just as soon as he'd kill a goddamn squiddie."

Comparing him to that man-animal was one step too far. The last of John's already tested restraint was broken, unleashing the Spartan's full fury. Silva buckled as John muscled him under before landing a solid punch across the ODST's chest. The powerful blow sent Silva flying across the ring with a hard landing.

John was on him right away. He pinned the helljumper down with his left hand on Silva's neck. The other drew back to finishing strike.

"No!"

John heard someone shout from behind. Then something wrapped around his right arm. He looked to see Lt. McKay trying to hold him back from what was surely a killing blow.

"Please, sir. " McKay begged. "It's over. You've won."

"Go ahead. Do it." Silva struggled to say with his neck still in John's grip. "Kill me. Just like you killed my entire team on the _Atlas_."

The _Atlas_.

John remembered that ship. That was almost twenty seven years ago, right after the augmentation and right before his first taste of live combat. He had still been getting used to his augmentations when a group of ODSTs had picked a fight after a misunderstanding. A sergeant had tried to contain the situation by putting them in the ring, similar to the current situation.

It hadn't worked back then either.

They attacked.

He fought back.

They were all dead in seconds. He hadn't meant to kill them, but they were nothing but broken bodies at his feet. It would have been more merciful to have shot them.

Now he understood why Silva despised him. John had butchered Silva's entire team without blinking an eye.

His grip on Silva's neck loosened and John back away from Silva. McKay attempted to help her CO, but Silva brushed her off and brought himself to his feet. Despite having been taken to the ground, he was still defiant as if wanting another round with the Spartan.

"It was a set up." John said, more to himself than to Silva. "ONI wanted it to happen to see what my augmentations could do. They attacked me. It wasn't my fault."

Silva stumbled, hacking and coughing up as he spat blood onto the mats. "Bullshit! That's no excuse. **You** killed them! Their blood is on **your** hands!"

"_It's not his fault." _

Why does it feel like that he's heard that somewhere before.

"_That's no excuse._"

Why does it feel like that he's said that somewhere before.

John went still. Deja vu was back, but it felt fresh, more recent. Silva's words echoed in his head, giving him a mild headache within seconds. He cursed as he turned and left. Who or what he was cursing, even he wasn't sure.

Things had been so much simpler when he was just a Master Chief.


	13. Bonus Chapter

**Disclaimer: I can't believe that this still has to be said, but Halo is all Bungie's. Any attempts to sue the author will net you at most one of my doomsday devices (Go ahead and take, I have more!).**

**A/N: This is a message for posterity. There is a reason why this chapter is called the bonus chapter. I'll give you a hint: the date that this update was first posted was April 1st 2011.  
**

**And ongoing thanks to my betas, Tikigod, MercenaryHmster, and vrbtny. They help make this story possible (and having some semblance to English instead of lower Slobovian). **

* * *

**1700 Hours, July 1st, 2561 (Military Calendar) / Epsilon Eridani System, planet Reach, FLEETCOM Military Complex, Camp Hathcock**

The Spartans gathered before the stage, awaiting the concert. This was no small event as the entire 822nd Spartan Regiment had been assembled here, though Blue and Noble teams had the honor of being seated front row center. John tugged at the collars of his dress uniform as he tried to get himself comfortably seated in the open theatre's seat. He hated the suit, preferring to be in his armor or failing that his BDUs. Seated to his right, Kelly slapped his hands away and adjusted his collars.

"Stop fidgeting before you tear the shirt to pieces." Kelly lightly chastised. She too was in dress uniform, though Kelly was nowhere near as disgruntled as John was.

John's response was a slight grumble.

"Oh, stop complaining. It's the end of the war. We've finally won and there's no reason for that."

"You know she's right, Sir." Linda said. She too was in dress in the black and blue formal and was seated to his left. "And you look damn good in it. You should wear it more often."

John appreciated the compliment, but Linda's praise did nothing to better his mood. He hated formal wear for two reasons: they were very uncomfortable and the only reason to ever wear them was to attend formal events, which was something that he loathed even more.

After Kelly finished, John settled back into his seat and his dour mood. If he had his way, the Spartans' victory celebration would be just to have a trip back to Emerald Cove. Long hours of nothing but the hot sun, clear skies, Grace's mouthwatering Calamari, and absolutely nothing to do but to lay back and relax would be his preferred reward.

Linda flashed him a smile and John momentarily forgot the situation he was in. It wasn't a cold bare smile or a grin of a predator on the hunt. It was a honest to god warm smile from her. Considering how cold and taciturn Linda was most of the time, it was a sight enough to make the event tolerable.

"I don't know about you guys," Kelly began. "but I still sometimes find it hard to believe that we're all actually here."

John was confused by that one. "What do you mean?"

"Well, I mean just look at it. After all we've been through, all the death and destruction, all the tragedies and losses, we're still here."

Linda sighed in sympathy. "I know what you mean. Red Flag, Celestial Storm..."

"First Strike, the Halos, Requiem." Kelly finished.

"And we're still here." John added. "But the question is what do we do now? There's no need for Spartans anymore."

"Oh I have some plans that I've put off for the longest time." Kelly responded with what sounded like a mischievous tone.

"Hmm. Me too." Linda added, her demeanor equally conspiratorial.

Before anything more could be said, the five members of Spearhead Team took their seats next to the Nobles. Wa took the last seat on the end so as to not obstruct anyone's view. John still had to resist making a double take at the sight of the shock trooper's demeanor. Wa was actually smiling with a genuinely happy mood. That still scared John more than t hat incident on the _Truth and Reconciliation_ so many years ago. For the thousandth time, John shook his head. Who'd knew that an encounter with the Flood would actually be good for someone?

"Oh, don't mind us. We're just waiting until General Yang calls us onto the stage." Nicole announced.

"On stage? I didn't know that you guys were performing." Kelly inquired.

"The better question is that you guys actually play instruments that don't vaporize people?" Linda quipped.

"Well yeah! You haven't heard?" Richard shouted incredulously. "Spearhead is the the core of the 822nd's marching band. We're doing the 1812 Overture."

"What do you guys play?" John asked

"I'm the maestro." Nicole offered.

"Bass Clarinet!" Steven said with a joint between his lips.

"Viola." Richard answered as he pulled out a flask.

"Drums." Wa offered in a eerily normal non-homicidal tone.

Before Jonathan could answer, though, Yang went on stage. After a very, very short speech, he called Spearhead team along with the rest of the marching band up to the stage. Jonathan, however, turned around and offered his delayed answer.

"And I play the percussion!" Jonathan said before he marched off with a maniac's cackle.

"That can't be good." John deadpanned.

"Oh, I'm sure that everything will be just fine." Kelly reassured.

The cellos and violas kicked off the performance. With a deep sigh, John settled back into his seat. No stress today if at all possible. Besides, it was the 1812 Overture. It was one of Dr. Halsey's favorite pieces. As such, the Spartans had listened to it many times when they were in her lab and developed a taste for the classical. John had to give credit where it was due. Nicole was doing a damn good job leading the symphony. The viola was a little bit off, though, with Richard playing a little too fast.

As the elements of the La Marseillaise started, John noticed a weigh on his shoulders. Looking to his left, Linda had sunk into her seat somewhat with her head resting on his shoulder. At that moment, he felt a hand ever so gently caress his own on the right. Did Kelly just touched him? Her facial expressions betrayed nothing, though. John decided to turn to the other direction.

"Linda?" John asked.

The Spartan sniper apologized and sat up again, but offered no explanation. John made a note to have a talk with her after the performance. Turning his attention back on stage, the commander noticed that Jonathan had an assault grenade launcher in hand.

Where were the cannons? Yang must have kept them out for fear of Jonathan. John was almost disappointed. On one hand, the cannons were critical to the overture's dramatic climaxes and finishes. On the other hand, the commander knew that if Jonathan had his way, the Spearhead demolitionist would probably have ripped a 90mm cannon off of a scorpion for the job. In that light, John could settle for some 50mm sonic concussion grenades.

The La Marseillaise portion drew to a close and the battle sequence began. This part was his favorite, celebrating the Russians' valiant fight against Napoleon at Borodino. On stage, Jonathan charged the handle on his AGL, his mad cackle muffled by the symphony. Just as the climax of the battle came, the commander felt something brush his hands again. This time, Kelly and Linda gently took his hands and rested their heads on his shoulders. Before he could say anything, though, Jonathan began the percussion sequence. 50mm grenades flew over the audience and detonated high above with enough force to rattle the Spartans below.

"Those aren't concussion grenades!" John realized. "He's firing HE rounds!" Sure enough, several curtains near the back had already caught fire.

Far from being incensed, though, the Spartans remained as they were and listened to the symphony. John's stunned silence was finally disturbed by the two ladies sitting beside him.

"Gotta say that Jonathan's doing a pretty good job." Kelly commented.

"I know. It's got to be tough to synchronize the detonation sequence." Linda added. Two ladies sighed contently and snuggled in even closer to the now officially frightened commander.

"What the hell is going on?" John demanded as he gently shrugged them off. Kelly and Linda simply smiled at him.

"Sshhh. Let's just enjoy the music for now. We'll have plenty for time for that later." Linda responded, her tone soft almost to the point of being sultry. Kelly added to John's confusion with a mischievous wink.

Before John could process his current circumstance, his ears picked up on the final act of the overture. The grand finale dedicated to the route of the French allied armies from Moscow was easily the most popular part of the entire overture**. **But then John remembered that it was in the end of the overture that the percussion pieces really came into play. Just as John feared, Jonathan pulled a remote detonator from his belt and pressed the trigger. Massive explosions plumed into the sky all around the Spartans, each perfectly timed with the symphony. Buildings, mountains, and forests all around the camp exploded with such force that it pained John's ears. Not a single other Spartan around him, however, had a single reaction of any sort.

The final minute of the overture ended any hope of normality for John as Jonathan pulled a FURY tac-nuke from behind his seat and input the codes. John's legs all but moved on their own as he tried to jump out of his seat.

Unfortunately, before he could even come to a stand, Kelly and Linda pounced. In perfectly timed coordination (which John couldn't help but approve of, as he was a Spartan through and through), they pinned John back against his seat, somehow locking his limbs perfectly in place, and kissed him. Further tongue-tied (mentally and physically) and generally unable to initiate any major motor reflexes at the moment, John could do nothing as Johnathan gleefully poked the big flashing red icon on the nuclear device's input screen. He thought he felt his shirt being unbuttoned and someone's hand sliding "south of the border" when the world vanished in a flash of light.

* * *

John screamed and shot upwards. But before he could come to a stand, his head smashed into something and he came tumbling back down. His forehead throbbing in pain, John then realized that he hadn't been vaporized. In fact, he wasn't at the ceremony or even in dress uniform, the bedsheets covering him was the closest thing to clothing of any sort that he had on at the moment. The Spartan found himself in his bunk back in barracks on the _Autumn._

"It was just a dream." John reassured himself.

Relief surged through the commander. With his racing heartbeat finally slowing down, John examined himself and his surroundings. Why was he naked? He always slept with a boxer and tank top on. And his bed seemed to be a little bigger than it used to be. His clothes were scattered about on the floor. A few shirts and pants had been torn to pieces. And he was alone in the barracks. Where was everyone else?

Then he noticed that he wasn't alone after all. The Spartan felt two hands snaking across his bare chest as Kelly and Linda rose up from his sides. The two ladies were also covered only in his bedsheets. They looked disheveled, but oh so alluring as they passionately kissed John senseless while their hands reached below.

"Ready for round twenty five?" Linda cooed.

John quickly disentangled himself from the two willing ladies, retreating to the side of the bunk. Kelly seemed briefly impressed at the feat before she smirked.

"Looks like our commander needs a break." she teased.

"I'm sure that we can keep ourselves entertained in the meantime. Don't you agree?" Linda seductively asked as she came up from behind Kelly and wrapped her arms around her chest.

"Ooohh. What do you have in mind?" Kelly teased. The two ladies kissed as Linda caressed Kelly's breast.

John shook his head. This has to be another dream.

"Ah, but this is not a dream." A voice declared from behind John.

"Who are you?" the Commander demanded.

"Oh, I'm havoc_legionnaire. I'm the guy that's writing this fic, and I'd like to have a word with you, Commander." Havoc turned to Kelly and Linda. "If that's alright with you ladies, of course?"

Kelly Linda giggled between them at John's incredulous face.

"That's no problem, havoc." Kelly answered.

"But don't take too long." Linda added. "We have plans for him."

"Thanks a bunch! Now where was I?" Havoc began. "Ah, yes. I thought that I should tell you the reason why you're alone in the barracks with Kelly and Linda. Well, two reasons, really. You see, I felt like such a douche bag for putting you through all that bullshit in the last few chapters. I mean having Wa beat the crap out of you and then the whole spiel with Spearhead and Kat. And that shitstorm with Silva. That one was a bit over the top. I mean, there is a reason for it all in the plot and they are by themselves pretty interesting, but I thought that you needed a break. That, plus it's April Fools Day and I wanted to post a prank update, so why not?"

"You call this writing?" John challenged. "There was no plot with Jonathan blowing up the symphony."

John pointed to the two ladies as they continued with their minstrations. "And Kelly and Linda? They're completely out of character! They're Spartans, not..." John stopped himself before he insulted the two.

"Oh, boo hoo. So what? This is a prank update, I don't have to write people in character. I could reduce them to one dimensional people if I wanted to. And besides, we all know that if it wasn't for the damn thyroid implants, you would have gotten with those two a long time ago. Besides, I'm not being overly descriptive, so this is still good for the T rating."

Before the Spartan could respond, another person wearing what looked like tie-dye infrared goggles walked into the scene.

"Oh, hey Tiki. What's going on, man?" Havoc greeted.

Replying in a way that could almost be considered a run-on sentence, Tiki began replying without pausing for breath: "Not much, just editing grammar and ignoring the human requirement for sleep. I see you have the obligatory sex-scene mapped out- Wait, where's Nicole? I totally thought you'd get her to do this for you."

"She said she had a date." At Tiki's disbelieving stare, Havoc replied. "Some blonde woman named Samus. Never seen her on the ship before. Keyes didn't know who she was either. Weird name, now that I think about it."

Putting his hand to his face with all the grace and power of any proper internet meme, Tiki mumbled something akin to "Damn you, Monty Oum." before sighing and turning to Havoc again.

"So anyway, I'm surprised you wrote something like this. Besides the obvious, what's the occasion?

"Well, I thought that I needed to post something to let my audience know that I'm still alive and will continue with the next chapter when my papers and exams are done. That, plus I wanted to post a prank on April Fools."

"Wait!" John interrupted. "You're the beta for this fic?"

"Well, one of the betas. Vrbtny does his part too. He's just shy about showing up on stage.**"** Tiki responded nonchalantly.

"And you let havoc throw me into the shitstorm over the last few chapters? What kind of a person are you!"

Tiki shrugged. "Hey, not my fic, man. I just proofread and make suggestions. Besides, Havoc here invested in some pretty good plot armor for you. Stop complaining. Hell, if you're lucky, some squiddie might just catch you in the thyroid too."

John couldn't help but pause to consider that.

While John did that, Tiki paused briefly to consider the scene at the other end of the bed which was quickly escaping the confines of T ratings. Mumbling something about whipped cream, the beta turned back to havoc. "Actually, havoc, I've been looking for you."

"Oh yeah? What for?" Havoc responded, also trying to figure out where the dairy product had come from.

"Yeah, you remember that doomsday device you promised me last chapter? I never got it."

"Really? I sent it out a month and a half ago..."

Tiki paused before quickly looking around the room as if he expected to find a hidden sniper. Havoc, meanwhile, had quickly gone extremely pale. John could only stare.

"Ooohhh. So that's what this thing is." A new voice announced. Bursting out of a conveniently placed closet, Jonathan-665 cradled an odd-looking beach ball sized doomsday device in his arms. There was a small red button and a big red button along with a short instruction reading "**Do Not Push!**" next to both of them and "**Don't even THINK of pushing them both at the same time!**" emblazoned at the center.

The Spearhead demolitionist blew raspberries and tickled it like an infant.

"Who's a good doomsday device? Who's a good doomsday device? Yes, you are. Yes, you are!"

Havoc broke out in cold sweat and spoke with a terrified tone. "Okay, Jonathan. I want you to listen very carefully to me."

"Okay!" Jonathan replied as his demented eyes shifted back onto the author.

Tiki muttered something about antimatter, Higgs boson, membrane inversion, and lots of zeroes, before curling up on the ground yelling "Not even the fourth wall can save us now! Quick! Assume the party-escort submission position!"

Havoc ignored the useless civvie as he continued to try to talk down Jonathan in what he hoped was a soothing manner.

"Good. Now I want you to put that thing down, and whatever you do, don't push the red buttons. And don't even think of pushing them both at the same time."

"Okay!" Jonathan answered before pressing both the buttons at the same time. Once again, the world erupted in a bright light.

"Not Again!" John shouted before the universe dissolved.

* * *

Once again, John shot up from the bed. Once again, his forehead bounced off of the rails above, sending him back onto the mattress. This time, though, John instantly collected himself and surveyed his surroundings. He was again alone in the _Autumn_'s barracks. But this time, he was wearing his usual tank top and boxers and his clothes were neatly put away.

Kelly, Linda, Kat, Nicole and a blonde officer entered the barracks just as Cortana flashed into existence on a nearby holotank. For a moment, John panicked until he registered that the ladies present were properly dressed

"We heard something, Commander." Nicole said in a leveled tone.

"It's nothing. I'm alright." John calmly replied, now reassured that the universe was sane again.

"What happened?" Cortana inquired.

"It was only just a dream." John answered before he sighed and slumped into the bed. "One really fucked up dream."

Cortana raised her eyebrows at John's unusual use of profanity but didn't comment on it.

"Yep." John heard Steven's voice from behind. The Spearhead sharpshooter boasted a grin of conspiratorial proportions as he took a very long drag from the joint in his hands, flicking the spent butt away. "It was."

With that, Steven cackled and walked towards the exit. He turned to give John the thumbs up before leaving the scene**,** dragging the now halfheartedly protesting blonde officer along with him while commenting. "Time for a crossover, baby!"

With a horrid realization, John turned back to the five ladies. Not surprisingly, their calm businesslike manner had instantly morphed into desire. What was surprising, however, was that Cortana's luminal form had, without any cause or explanation whatsoever, changed into flesh and blood. The five women pounced on top of John, pinning him down as they ripped his clothes off before disrobing themselves. Cortana took lead, wrapping her legs around John's hips as she pulled him into a kiss.

"I have a message from Havoc." Nicole began as she and Kat nibbled on Jon's earlobes. "He said that he's sorry that he let Jonathan get a hold of the doomsday device. He sent me, Kat, and Cortana to give Kelly and Linda a hand while he repairs the universe, and sent Wa & Richard over to FedEx to get a refund for failing to get his package delivered.

Kelly chimed in with: "And don't worry, John, Tiki's been placed in the brig for the duration of our trip for making a Portal reference."

As Cortana broke off her kiss, the Commander had only moments to breathe before Linda's lips took Cortana's place while Cortana and Nicole's tongues intertwined with each other. After Linda, Kat took her turn with her commander. With five pairs of feminine hands roaming about his body knowing exactly what do to and with such a concentration of pheromones in the air, even John's suppressed sex drive came roaring back to life. Cortana moaned as she felt a hardness form between her legs.

This was it. There's only so much before, anyone, even a Spartan, could take before they have to bend to reality. And John has reached his limit. There's no sense fighting this anymore now. Still, he was a Spartan and a Commander. This was going to be on **his** terms.

Breaking off his kiss with Kat, John rolled Cortana over and pinned her onto the bed. The other women saw the confusion and panic on his face replace with lust and absolute confidence. Every woman present cheered. John found that he quite enjoyed their adoration.

Cortana smiled and licked her lips. "Think you can handle me?"

"Think you can handle all of us?" Nicole added.

John simply grinned. "The real question is can all of you handle me?" The commander growled before he claimed Cortana's lips.

Now he had a mission.

And Spartan-117 does not fail.

* * *

**For what it's worth now, April Fools!**

**And Tiki also has a message... **

"**I knew it would all end in porn!"**


	14. Vignette: Scared Straight

**Disclaimer: I can't believe that this still has to be said, but Halo is all Bungie's. Any attempts to sue the author will net you at most one of my doomsday devices (Go ahead and take, I have more!).**

* * *

_**Scared Straight**_

"_Even though Spearhead didn't need a tech specialist, I decided that Spearhead would give her a place where she would finally belong to spiritually or would set her straight. So I temporarily reassigned her." - _Colonel George Yang, referring to Katherine-320

* * *

**1500 Hours, October 21st, 2552 (Military Calendar) / UNS **_**Pillar of Autumn**_**, Battle Group Stanforth, Interstellar Space, Sector 197. **

The doors to Cargo Bay Five opened to admit Colonel Yang who was struggling with a very heavy looking rectangular metal case. Inside, both Noble and Spearhead Teams came to attention. The flagship team was donned in their armor with sidearms secured in their holsters while Spearhead and Kat was content in their fatigues.

"At ease." Colonel said before plopping the massive case onto the floor. The eleven Spartans loosened up their stance. Yang's gaze fell on Six. "How are you today, son?"

That last statement drew a slight chuckle from the Nobles. Everyone knew 312's unique circumstances upon entry into the Spartan program and it had become somewhat of a running gag among the IVs. Though Six had never broken protocol and call Yang "dad", Yang took every opportunity to abuse his higher rank to call him "son".

"Ready for anything, Sir." Six responded.

"That, I'm sure. What about you, Carter? Has he been giving you any trouble?"

"No, sir." The Noble CO replied.

Yang smiled before turning his attention onto Nicole.

"I'm impressed Nicole. This is the longest your team has ever went before being thrown in hack. And I didn't know that there was a Spartan equivalent of 'a captain must go down with her ship'."

Spartan-458 almost squirmed before that question. "I, uh, don't know how to respond to that, sir?"

"Hehehe. Don't worry. You're not suppose to."

"So how much longer before you gonna let us out, Colonel." Richard asked.

"Sorry, Richard, but not this time." Yang responded."You know I don't mess with other people's chain of command in the field."

"But. But. But my stash needs me!" Steven pleaded. Yang simply shook his head before turning to Wa. The massive shock trooper dipped his head in respect.

"You know that this probably could have all been avoided if you had just said more that just 'stay the fuck out of my way'?"

Wa simply rumbled and turned away.

"Moving on, then." Yang continued. "So what have you guys been doing in here?"

"This!" Jonathan shouted as he raised a needle point with detonation cord stringing down around him.

"They've been mostly reminiscing with some old war stories" Six offered. "But I can't really make heads or tails of what they were saying."

"Oh, you mean like that time on Lusitania when we..." Jonathan began.

"...Yeah and we did that flour bomb thing with that Hunter and the wraith..." Richard continued in between his chuckles.

"...And I had that antique Carl Gustav..." Steven struggled out beyond his cackles.

"... and we gave a whole new meaning of..." Nicole interjected as she was split between laughing and trying to look embarrassed.

"...The shit has hit the fan!" Nicole, Steven, Jonathan, and Richard said all together at once before breaking down into side-splitting laughter even as Wa had the slightest curl on his lips while the Nobles looked on with utter confusion.

After a couple more minutes of that, Six spoke up. "Well, if we're still doing story time, maybe you can tell me one that I want to hear."

"Okay, ask away." Nicole offered.

Six looked over at Kat. "You mentioned before that you were part of Spearhead team once."

At that, the Colonel broke into a fond chuckle. "Ah, yes. That one was my doing, but I'll let Kat herself tell you this one, Son."

Six looked over to Kat again, who had her face buried in her hands. "Did you noticed, Six, that Spearhead has only five members while all the other Spartan teams has six?" Six nodded before Kat continued.

"There's a reason for that. There's no situation that Spearhead is ever involved in where the team needs a tech specialists. Nothing worthwhile ever survives them coming within a hundred meters of it in combat. If there's anything in their way that would normally be spliced or hacked open, they just smash, burn, or blow their way through."

"That's right!" Steven added. "Spearhead Team! Covenant forces occupying your city? Send in Spearhead. Caution: no guarantee the city will still be standing!"

"Isn't that the truth." Kat said. "Onto why I was put on the team."

"As I said, that was my doing." Yang took over. "Kat is quite the model Spartan now, but she wasn't always that way. There was a time when was willing to take some excessive risks on a regular basis. Carter and I had a talk about it and I decided to teach her a lesson. Even though Spearhead didn't need a tech specialist, I decided that Spearhead would give her a place where she would finally belong to spiritually or would set her straight. So I temporarily reassigned her."

"At first, I thought that it would be a great experience." Kat continued. "And we did make a one hell of a body count. But then I came to understand that Spearhead doesn't actually take risk. Risk implies possibility of death. Spearhead goes for what should be the certainty of a horrible painful death, but just kills everything anyway. After being blown up for the hundredth time..."

Kat glared daggers at Jonathan. "... eighty seven of which was his doing! I was beginning to regret joining the team. But that last straw was during that engagement on Arcturus..."

* * *

_It was getting bad. Really bad. Kat looked out the window with her helmet off on what was a corporate tower. Forty five stories below, the covenant was swarming over the streets. A covenant battlecruiser had surprised the UNDF forces planetside and plopped two whole legions onto the streets. While orbital fire and the longswords had driven the battlecruiser away, the covenant was now firmly entrenched in the city. And with all the civilians and soldiers still around, nukes or orbital saturation bombardment was out of the question._

"_Arghhh" Steven groaned behind Kat. His had taken his helmet off to enjoy a stogie even as Jonathan sat next to his brother as he tinkered with an IED. "I can't find my lighter."_

"_Here, let me get that for ya." Jonathan offered before detonating a small amount of his improvised RDX. The small explosion knocked them both off of their seats and Kat onto her face; Wa stood unmoved, but tense as he observed the battle below that was going on without him. When they rose back up, Steven's face was blackened and his eyebrows burned clean off. _

_Steven took a very long drag from the now lit cigar. "That'll do. A little more warning next time." _

_Kat growled as she got back onto her feet. She was really getting tired of these seemingly suicidal frontal assaults and getting blown up by Jonathan. At least with the covenant, even if they were genocidal it was at least nothing personal._

_On the other side of the hallway, the elevator dinged and disgorged Nicole and Richard. _

"_Jonathan, tell me you have something big for this shitstorm." Nicole immediately demanded. _

"_Oh yes!" Jonathan enthusiastically replied as he brought up a layout of the city over the squad data feed. "The covenant have taken over the city center, but we've managed to keep them boxed in for now. With the river on the north and west side and the park in the south, we can level the entire city center without too much danger to the our guys down there."_

"_And how are going to do that? We can't call in the big guns this close to our lines." Nicole queried. _

"_Oh, that's fine. All we have to do is to level one skyscraper in the right direction and the rest will fall like dominoes." _

"_Yes, that would work." Kat offered. "All we have to do is to level the Edmunson building southwards and the whole city center will go. But we'll have to move fast to get there before the covenant figure out what we're doing."_

_The team rose from their seats and prepared to leave. But just as Kat was about to put her helmet on, Jonathan spoke up again. _

"_Oh no need. The one we're in right now works just fine!" _

_For a moment, Kat's mind all but refused to process what Jonathan had said because of the implications. But when 665 raised a remote detonator, the wide eye realization on her face was painfully obvious. The moment before Jonathan pressed the button, he raised an old fashion chemical photo camera and snapped a picture of Kat's stunned expression. _

_The explosion rocked the building and was strong enough to knock even Wa to his face. Ever so slowly, the building began to tip._

"_RUN!" Nicole shouted. _

_With a speed they've never demonstrated before, the six Spearheads burst forward though with no real idea of where they're going. _

"_This! Is! Wrong!" Kat shouted. _

"_Yeah, we need music!" Richard added. _

"_I got it!" Steven offered before music flowed from his helmet speakers. Even in this terrified state of mind, Kat could recognize the trumpets at the start of the William Tell Overture. _

_The six Spartans crashed through the windows, sailing across the streets into another skyscraper only for that building to start collapsing under the impact of the first. This sisyphus-esque process repeated itself again and again to the tune of trumpets and cymbals from Steven's helmet speakers. Eventually, though, the collapse caught up with the Spearheads and building finally came down upon them. _

_From the rubble came the groans of thousands of dying covenant warriors crushed underneath. But there was one particular spot where instead there was maniacal laughter. The muffled cackles were finally unleashed as Wa shoved the slabs of reinforced concrete off of the team. _

"_Let's do that again!" Richard proposed between his laughs._

"_Implosion? But I thought you said..." Jonathan mocked. _

_The traumatized Kat, however, was visibly shaking even as Nicole picked herself up. Seeing Kat staring at her calm stance, Spearhead One simply shrugged._

_"Meh. Another day in Spearhead." _

* * *

"I still have that picture with me." Jonathan added. "In fact, let me whip it out right now."

"Don't you dare!" Kat snarled. A firm shake of Nicole's head convinced Jonathan to stop.

"Well, after that," Yang picked up. "... Kat begged me to send her back to Noble. It would have been cruel not to."

"It was cruel to send me to them in the first place!" Kat countered. "But as much as I hate to say it, it did work. I was more careful person after that, a more careful soldier. I owe them for that at least. Once a Spearhead, always a Spearhead."


	15. Vignette: The Hamsters!

**Disclaimer: I can't believe that this still has to be said, but Halo is all Bungie's. Any attempts to sue the author will net you at most one of my doomsday devices (Go ahead and take, I have more!).**

* * *

**As always, credit to Tikigod and ****vrbtny for beta. Lower Slobovian, and all. And before you say it, yes I tried to make this one with Jonathan to as ridiculous as possible while still fitting into the overall story. I did this right as I'm about to finish my 18 page ********monstrosity on the ********Sino-Soviet Split.**  


* * *

**The Hamsters are Everywhere!**

"_Is my brother insane? Yes. Does he need help? Yes. But do those hamsters keep us all alive? Yes. Do they help __to make __him our walking artillery? Yes. So why ruin a good thing?"_ - Steven-666 in reference to his brother Jonathan-665.

* * *

Whilst the rest of the cargo bay's occupants were prattling away about the past, Jonathan was dedicating himself to a much more noble cause: stitching detonation cord together for yet another one of his det packs. As he stitched away while mumbling what could only be described as lower Slobovian, his demented mind pondered on which of his IEDs should receive his attention next.

_Hmm, maybe the bolos? Or perhaps the EFP charges? I could use more stick grenades._

"Nah! Let's make a Panzerfaust!" A squeaky voice from out of nowhere shouted.

Almost instantly, Jonathan's grin stretched to maniacal lengths. Out from behind one of the crates, a little brown hamster wearing a strangely appropriate top hat, monocle, and cane no less**, **poked its head over the edges. It gave him a classical tip of his hat in greeting after scurrying onto the top. "Sorry I'm late today."

"Mr. Blaskowitz! I was wondering when you'd show up." Jonathan enthusiastically greeted.

"Argh, blame the wife and kids. 'Oh, Edgar, we need more raspberries. We're out of greens. We're out of this. We're out of that.' Gotten himmel, women! I shouldn't have to get everything. Our pups are big enough forage themselves."

Jonathan simply chuckled. "Eh, Women. Can't live with them. Can't chain them to the yard."

"You're preaching to the choir, Johnny boy. But lets get to work, shall we? We need to add some shrapnel patterns to those 120mm warheads!"

"Nah! We need more AP!" Another hamster shouted. This time, it was a whitish hamster perched on his right shoulder wearing a lab coat and a hardhat. "You know, Johnny, we could stuff some plasma grenades into the hollow cone and make a shaped plasma charge? All we have to do is to remove the copper lining and time the fuses correctly."

"That's an excellent idea, Bomberg! Why didn't I think of that before?" Jonathan commented.

"Hey! Get in line, Bomberg! I was here first!" Blaskowitz angrily shouted.

"Hey, no one said anything about a line." Another hamster said as it crawled out from in between the crates. More furry rodents followed from every nook and cranny, shouting out all manners of advice.

"The hamsters! The hamsters are everywhere!" Jonathan gleefully shouted. "Calm down, guys. I got time for all of you."

* * *

Spartan-312 eyed Jonathan suspiciously. The Spearhead demolitionist was having a conversation with not one but multiple individuals- who weren't there. He giggled every so often even as he assembled more explosives at a fast, but steady pace. Of course, being a Spartan, Noble Six could in fact hear what he was saying... for better or worse.

"Hamsters? I don't see any rodents around here." Six said.

"Ah, the clone is in his happy place I see." Steven responded.

Six waved at Jonathan, attempting to get a response from him, but he had no luck.

"Forget it, Six." Nicole offered. "When the hamsters show up, he won't answer to anyone."

Six looked to Colonel Yang. "He's not all there in the head, is he?"

Yang shook his head. "This is exactly why I told you to get more involved with the other Spartans back during training, son. You'd have known about this already if you had. But yes, Jonathan is, shall we say, not like you or I."

"That's one way of putting it." Jun continued. "I'd just be honest and call it schizophrenia."

Jonathan cackled gleefully.

"... and probably just about everything else that one could be committed to a mental asylum for." Kat finished.

Six folded his arms around his chest. "Why am I not surprised?"

"Well, to be honest, Spearhead _**is**_ the de facto clearinghouse for all the mentally compromised, but still functional, Spartans of the 822nd." Yang commented, which earned him a glare from Nicole. "Ok, with the exception of Nicole there. But that stands true for the rest of the team."

"You say that like it's a bad thing." Richard shot back.

"In any case, son. Where as the rest of Spearhead can, with liberal margins, be considered as simply neurotic, Jonathan is actually clinically psychotic. He definitely has schizophrenia, dementia, bipolar, hysteria, pyromania, OCD, and along with God knows what else." Yang said.

"And you let him stay in the field?" Six asked incredulously.

"You know my policy, son. If it doesn't affect your battlefield performance and you're not hurting anyone whose civie or UNDF, I really don't care what you do or how you act off the battlefield. And those hamsters of his are actually useful."

"Here, Six. Take a really good look at my brother." Steven said. As instructed, 312 observed 665. The short, but disheveled hair. The demented eyes, twitching with some semblance of regularity. The crooked grin that somehow sustains itself even as Jonathan muttered and babbled to the figments of his imagination. It would be laughable if it weren't for all the exposed explosives around him.

"Does he look like the most careful person in the whole UNDF to you?"

The answer was obvious enough that Six didn't reply.

"Let me put it another way." Yang said. "You ever noticed that the number 6 barracks in back in Camp Haya seems a lot newer than the other buildings?"

Six nodded.

"That's because Jonathan accidentally blew that building up three times over while he was still bunked there. I'm still trying to figure out how he survived or how he even did it, actually. There weren't even any nominally explosive substances that were unaccounted for in the entire base. Thank God no one got hurt except for Jonathan himself, but he was hospitalized three times for that. I considered washing him out by then, but he was such a good grenadier that I couldn't do it."

"And each time, he came back a little more bent than before." Nicole added. Everyone present simply stared at her for her response. "Okay, a lot more bent then before."

"Which is another mystery." Yang continued. "The scans didn't show any brain injuries, but after the third time, the accidental explosions stopped. At the same time, those imaginary hamsters started showing up as well as Jonathan's ... innovative... IEDs. Call it bad science if you must, but my own theory is that he subconsciously created them as a sort of mental safeguard to keep himself in check. And despite all those mental problems, he is still capable of advance squad tactics and using explosives like it's an art. Those imaginary rodents of his also help him to process information on the battlefield. How you think all those explosives of his never go off prematurely? It's like he has his own officer staff with him filtering out the junk even if it's really just his own training."

"And besides," Richard added. "... Jonathan is the one that usually comes up with the plans. And his schemes usually have two defining aspects: they're never dull and you won't believe that they're possible until it's over."

Looking at Jonathan again, Six concluded that at least part of Richard's statement was true.

"Let me put it this way." Steven interjected. "Is my brother insane? Yes. Does he need help? Yes. But do those hamsters keep us all alive? Yes. Do they help to make him our walking artillery? Yes. So why ruin a good thing?"


	16. Vignette: The Rifle

**Disclaimer: I can't believe that this still has to be said, but Halo is all Bungie's. Any attempts to sue the author will net you at most one of my doomsday devices (Go ahead and take, I have more!).**

AN: This is the second to last vignette and the last of the comical one. There is a purpose here, though, as it introduces a piece of equipment that will play a major role in the upcoming battle. The next vignette will focus on Wa and will give part of the solution to the crisis at hand.

And to preemptively answer a question, Yes there is such a thing as a double barrel bolt action firearm. They're just really hard to get.

Credit to Tikigod as my beta. Otherwise, this would be a reading exercise in lower Slobovian.

* * *

"Okay, Colonel. I have to ask." Steven spoke in a hopeful tone. "That crate you brought in with you. Is that what I think it is?"

"Oh yeah. I completely forgot about that thing." Yang replied before he tried to drag the heavy crate up. Six quickly rushed to his side and lifted it with ease. "Ah, thank you, my boy."

Yang punched in the security codes for the electronic lock and opened the crate. Inside was what looked like the disassembled parts of a very large bore rifle.

The ecstatic Steven zipped across the distance towards the rifle, almost shoving Six out of the way. With blistering speed that implied familiarity, the Spearhead marksman quickly assembled the components. Once he was finished, Steven lifted the rifle into the air in proud display.

"It's finished! The _Loudenboomer_ is finally finished!" Steven uttered with a weak tone. With teary eyes, he planted an overly dramatic and sentimental kiss on the top of the scope. "Shhh. It's okay, baby. Daddy's here now."

Ignoring the melodramatic scene, Six examined the weapon. It wasn't even a rifle, really. Judging from the 20mm bore, it was more of a man-portable cannon. It was of an augmented helical rail design with its barrel heavily reinforced extended out to the point that it was slightly taller than Steven. Like the Helical Rail Rifle, its grip had couplers to draw power from Mjolnir reactor. Surprisingly, it was a forward receiver design bolt action design with what looks like an internal magazine. The bolt handle itself seemed to be the pistol grip. The final surprise was the stock. It looked like it had some sort of a pneumatic piston shock absorber like the ones on a vehicle mounted 20mm autocannon, but it was heavily modified to the point that the piston almost looked like an electromagnetic solenoid. The last thing of notice was a fine engraving on the barrel: _Eargesplitten Loudenboomer_ _Mk IV._

"Should I even ask what that thing is?" Six inquired.

"This is the Mk IV, Six." Steven replied without taking his eyes off his rifle. "This is progress! This is power! This is the ultimate poke! This is what the King of the Mad Minute deserves!"

"That, son, is the Precision Helical Rail Cannon." Yang explained.

"Hey! She's my design! I get to name her." Steven interjected. "And your name, my dear, will be Mina."

"I thought that it was suppose to be Regina." Richard said.

Steven glared daggers at Rich. "I don't want to hear that name again, Rich. I gave that bitch from hell a lot more than what she deserved."

Six looked to Yang for an explanation.

The Colonel shook his head. "Don't ask, son. Please, for the sake of all our sanity..." Yang looked over to Spearhead. "... or what's left of it. But in any case, I'll use the name it bears. That is the _Eargesplitten Loudenboomer_ _Mk IV_. The most recent and deadliest evolution of the _Loudenboomer_ yet."

Jun walked up next to Steven and attempted to examine the rifle by hand only for Steven to instinctively recoil away to keep the weapon in his hold. After a disapproving glare from Yang, Steven finally relented.

"As you already know, Six..." Jun said as he cycled the bolt and examined the sights. "... the colonel and his teams usually are the ones to introduce new weapon designs. The entire SM series in particular was his work with only two exceptions: the SM-4 Pulse Energy Cannon which was Doctor Halsey's design and SM-3 Helical Rail Rifle..."

"...which was mine." Steven boasted.

"Well, the ergonomics, feed system, and exterior, yes." Yang interrupted. "The accelerator and power relay was mine, though. But the point of the matter is this: the SM-3 is actually the Mk 3 without Steven's personal customizations."

"So I take it that there's a Mk1 and Mk2?" Six asked.

"Oh yes indeed. Quite a story behind them, actually."

At that, Six took his chance to pick a seat and get comfortable. Another story from Spearhead. He wondered how crazy and ridiculous this one would be.

"The Mk 1 Loudenboomer was really an accident, you see. In fact, I'd call it a serendipitous happenstance. It happened in New Tashkent on Delta Bactria about four years back..."

* * *

_With a flick of a match, Steven brought the flame to a cigar that was resting in between his lips. He had found an abandoned smoke shop in the high end market district of the city. Taking the opportunity to replenish his stash, Steven had placed his rifle aside as he pilfered to his heart's content. The area was quite quaint, really. The city's chamber of commerce had gone through great pains to make the market district look like a small time town from the mid-Twentieth Century. The Covenant had tried to push through here in an attempt to outflank the city heights where the main fire base was suppressing covenant formations throughout the city, though Spearhead had made short work of them. _

_As he threw the match away, the Spearhead sharpshooter struggled not to laugh or to make faces. To his right, there was a very subtle distortion in the air that was closing with him. It took a supreme effort on Steven's part to not to make some witty remark that would alert the elite attempting to sneak up on him. As the elite slowly maneuvered to back stab him, Steven look an extra long drag and burned through a quarter of the cigar. The Spartan turned around and blew the ash on his cigar onto the elite. _

_As the smoke and ash collapsed the alien's stealth field, Steven grinned like a scoundrel. "Care for a smoke?"_

_The surprised elite lunged with a wrist mounted plasma dagger. Steven sidestepped the move before poking the lit tip of the cigar into the elite's eye. Screaming in agony, the elite thrashed about trying to slash Steven. He back away in time as his right hand went for his pistol while his left placed the cigar back onto his lips. But then Steven realized something as he attempted another drag: the cigar had been sliced down to a spent stub. _

_In an instant, Steven's eyes narrowed with rage as his teeth audibly ground against each other. _

"_THAT! WAS! RUDE! I'll take your eyes for that!"_

_Without delay, he emptied all eight rounds of the pistol's magazine into the elite's wrist where the plasma dagger was. With that threat out of the way, Steven tossed the pistol aside and threw himself at the alien. The two warriors crashed through the walls. The injured elite attempted to throw Steven off, but the enraged Spartan kept his iron grip on his victim as he pummeled away at the alien's skull. _

_When he finally stopped, the elite's head had been reduced to a purple paste on the floor. He normally wasn't one for hands on cruelty - that's Wa's job – but this was one step too far. Killing an enemy is a task for an honorable warrior, but to destroy his stogie midway through can only be the act of a dishonorable monster that deserved no pity._

_As he picked himself up, Steven took his first good look as his surroundings. That hole that he and the dead elite had made had taken them both into a hidden chamber of sorts. Lining all along the wall were rifles of all sorts. He spotted a few famous antiques like a Gewehr 98 and a Lee-Enfield SMLE and even a really old Kentucky Hunting Rifle. There were also some modern ones. There was that 8mm DS-29 hunting rifle at the corner and a Remington R-1900 at the top. Like a professional art critic, Steven gazed carefully on each and every one of them to appreciate the sheer quality of which they were maintained at. _

_But one of them quickly seized his attention. _

"_Can it be?" Steven whispered in shock and reverence. _

_At the center behind a glass case was a 2352 double barrel bolt action Holland & Holland Royal rifle. Steven all but drooled as he spotted the legendary rounds that confirmed what he saw: the .950 Woolworth magnum. This rifle was indeed the infamous Gueta gun, made by the legendary gunsmiths of Holland & Holland for only the craziest hunters who would try to take on the massive Gueta beasts of Reach. It was probably the only gun outside of an anti-tank gun that could drop a Gueta in one or two shots. Its users had to meet physical requirements on par with professional football players, purchase special gear to protect their shoulders, and had to sign a legal waiver just to be authorized to buy this overpowered rifle. Not surprisingly, there were quite a few reports of idiotic users and ignorant thieves that had got themselves killed with it, including one incident where the Royal's recoil threw a man off a cliff when he discharged both barrels at the same time. _

_Despite its strong reinforced Titanium-A frame, Steven gingerly took the rifle out of its case to examine it. There were several cases of shells behind the rifle. Steven opened the bolt and emptied a four round stripper clip into both magazines. _

"_You know, fellas. I can hear you coming." Steven said as he closed the bolt and turned around. As he said, there were several more distortion trying to sneak up on him from the hole in the wall. _

_The surprised elites quickly recovered from their shock, though. They dropped their cloak and raised their shields as the leader lunged at Steven with a plasma sword. Unfortunately for it, though, his target was the King of the Mad Minute and the high priest of snap shooting. In no time, Steven had already zeroed into the elite's chest and fired. _

_The recoil was like nothing he have felt before. The rifle's powerful kick was enough to give Steven a slight jerk backwards. That was nothing compared to what happened to his assailant, however. The .950 Woolworth magnum tore through lunging elite, splitting the alien in two, before slamming through the shields of the elite commando behind it and tore the left half of its torso off. _

_The remaining elites quickly withdrew from the hole in the wall and readied plasma grenades. But their plans were interrupted by a twisted combination of an earsplitting boom, the manual cycle of a bolt, and Steven's maniacal cackle as the .950 magnums punched right through the walls and tore their limbs off. _

_The triumphant Spartan stepped through the hole once more as he fed two more clips into the rifle. Steven surveyed the remains of the smoke shop. The walls and floor were painted with the explosive pattern of purple gore that detailed just how and where the elites had been hit._

"_Oh, that's going to be tough to get out of the carpets." 666 joked as he slung his sack of loot over his shoulder with one hand hand cradled his new rifle with the other. _

* * *

"As good as the Mk 1 was, I had to get rid of it eventually. I just couldn't get ammunition for it after I burned through the first stock. I replaced that one with my own custom designed 20x110mm cannon; that was the Mk2. It had the same problem, though. I just couldn't get enough ammo for it on the field."

"But then he heard that I was introducing the SM series with helical rail rifle included." Yang spoke up. "So he just showed up one day at my office with the blueprints for two new rifles with easy access to ammunition. The Mk 3 became the basis for the Helical Rail Rifle."

"What happened to the Mk 4? Why did it take so long to get it operational?" Six asked.

That was when Nicole started to laugh. "That's because Steven finally made something that would kick him onto his ass without any outside help."

"Yes, son. The Mk 4 was too powerful as it was at the time." Yang explained. "We really pulled out all the stops on that thing. The Mk 4 has the same muzzle energy as a 75mm cannon. It has a bolt action because that's the only way I could make something that small without it breaking or magnetizing where it shouldn't. The recoil was so strong that it knocked Steven on his ass no matter how he hard tried to brace himself. I had to design a whole new recoil system on that thing to make it work. That pneumatic piston is also electromechanically assisted. And I still don't know if it's enough to make it work. In all honesty, this is a rifle that Wa should be using."

"Eh. Says you." Steven said. "This baby is accurate out to twelve kilometers. But Mina has one more feature that no other rifle in history has."

666 turned back towards the case and produced a very odd contraption that has a loose resemblance to a mortar shell with a very long rod at the base. He fitted the odd device onto the muzzle like a rifle grenade.

"Meet the 300mm rocket assisted spigot rail mortar!" Steven introduced. "Stick this thing onto the muzzle and watch it fly. It's like a goddamn punt gun!"

Six rolled his eyes and shook his head. This whole thing can't be practical.

"Son, you'd really be surprise at the shit that Spearhead could make or work with." Yang offered. "But somehow, it just all works."

"Look at it this way." Jun added. "The Mk 4 will either work spectacularly or fail spectacularly. But either way, you won't be able to look away."

Steven cackled in response before he fell into a tune. "This is my rifle and this is my... well that's also a rifle. And uh... This is for fighting and …. well this is also for fun. Ah, fuck. This isn't gonna roll."


	17. Vignette: The Promise

**Disclaimer: I can't believe that this still has to be said, but Halo is all Bungie's. Any attempts to sue the author will net you at most one of my doomsday devices (Go ahead and take, I have more!).**

**A/N: Here I am one week after my semester is over. As promised, this is an update of actual substance, though a part of me is afraid that I've written enough sap into this that one would need a pancake to clean it up. The next chapter will finally resolve the conflict and will have something in the end that would radically change the nature of Operation Red Flag.**

**As always, credit to my betas Tikigod & Mercenaryhmster for the edits. Otherwise, this would be an exercise in lower Slobovian.**

* * *

"_If you really want to make it up to me, then promise me that you'll do whatever it takes to make sure that John survives this operation." - Kelly-087_

* * *

**1200 Hours, October 23rd, 2552 (Military Calendar) / UNS **_**Pillar of Autumn**_**, Battle Group Stanforth, Interstellar Space, Sector 197. **

One thing that Kelly finally noticed as she watched Wa eating his dinner within Cargo Bay Six was the more subtle differences between him and the other Spartans, ones that most people wouldn't be able to recognize. It didn't take a genius to figure out that it took a massive amount of calories to fuel the strength of the Shock Trooper, but the side effects manifested themselves in an odd, yet very logical way. In a relative state of rest (such as right now), 514 looked not like an over-muscled killing machine, but almost normal thanks to small stores of fat all around his body that hid all hints of his raw power. Unlike normal Spartans who looked like bodybuilders at the best of times, Wa's body wasn't bursting at the seams to keep all the added muscle inside. With this and the complete lack of scars thanks to his accelerated healing, Kelly thought that he almost looked like a civilian if one were to ignore the massive height difference. She had to suppress an chuckle at the sudden thought of Wa gaining hundreds of wrinkles if he ever managed to get out of shape.

After he was finished with his meal, Kelly decided that it was time to make another attempt to reach out to him.

"So tell me..." Kelly asked, earning her an inquisitive look from Wa. "Not that I don't appreciate the quiet, but why did Colonel Yang have you moved here to Cargo Bay Six?"

"I asked for it." Wa replied a dispassionate monotonous tone, a recent development after their last encounter. "I wanted to turn the temperature down below zero again. The colonel thought that it made no real difference that I be separated from the rest of the team, so he authorized my relocation."

Kelly smiled at the implication. "So you do care about them."

514 gave a low annoyed growl. "I just don't want to hear Jonathan complaining endlessly about his imaginary hamsters freezing to death."

Kelly giggled at that one. Word of Spearhead Three's unique mental state had made its rounds among the Spartans after Jorge accidentally let it slip when Grace had asked him about his day.

"If you say so." Kelly singsonged. Call her a sadist if one must, but she was really beginning to enjoy getting around Wa's homicidal veneer at his expense.

All Wa could do was to scoff. "You're more like her than I'd prefer."

Ah**,** "**her**." This Mei Ling, Wa's little sister, was the topic Kelly wanted to expand on. She still didn't understand how his little sister figured into him not killing her and John. From the look on Wa's face, Kelly could surmise that he already knew what she was going to say next. His slump shoulders told her that he didn't want to discuss it, but the mixture of confidence, innocence, and anticipation on Kelly's face made it clear that Wa would not be able to escape the topic.

"What was she like?" Kelly began.

"What else? A typical twelve year old." Wa paused for a moment as he remembered that he was talking to a Spartan, someone who would have absolutely no idea how a typical twelve year old girl would act. "Witty. Full of energy. Utterly restless and inquisitive about everything. She pestered me endlessly both for knowledge and for its own sake. I couldn't stand her. The only thing my parents ever consistently lectured me on was to stop taking every opportunity to ditch her."

Wa stopped as he turned introspective. "It's almost cliché, but I do miss her now. And my parents as well. A Spartan is not supposed to do that, is he?"

Kelly could offer no real answer. So little of her pre-Spartan life still survived in her memories, though she would always gleefully remember outrunning the ONI agents sent to kidnap her. Even so, she could recall little more than what her parents looked like. She couldn't relate to Wa at all in this case.

"I suppose not." Kelly finally offered.

"Another reason why that label on me is a farce. But we all have to wear a mask to get to where we want to go."

"And where is that for you?" Kelly asked.

"The battlefield." Wa replied curtly. "It is where I belong, where I can be become what he's made me into."

Kelly wasn't quite sure, but there seemed to be the slightest hint of disgust in his voice. It was obvious who 'he' was, but Kelly thought it better to not push that topic for now. "What's it like when you go into battle?"

Wa gave a confused look, prompting Kelly to expand on her inquiry. "I mean, why do you fight the way you do? From what I've seen, you don't just kill your target; you completely annihilate them. Literally ripping them apart, impaling one enemy with the severed limbs of another. Dare I say, it's almost inefficient. And you don't even try to dodge, parry, or block any attacks at all."

Wa chuckled grimly at that. "Ackerson was many things and one of them was being poetic about his work. Typhon, the most horrible and powerful of the Greek monsters who came close to slaying Zeus himself. It's sheer rage and power was almost a force of nature that was completely beyond reason and utterly irresistible. The ancient Greeks even based a volcano around this myth. Apropos both for the legend and for the project, in my opinion. When I'm fighting, the world itself becomes red and I start to fade away. I don't exist as a person, but merely as a force. There is no reason for the carnage. It simply must be done or the universe itself seems violated."

"But it bothers you, doesn't it" Kelly concluded. "It's more than obvious that you hate Ackerson for what he did to you."

Wa scoffed. "You have no idea what he's done to me."

"What did he do?" Kelly asked almost timidly.

"Machiavelli said that it is important for the prince to avoid the hatred of his subject to achieve control and success." Wa bitterly spit. "In this case, though, hatred was necessary. He tortured us non-stop even as he trained us. He needed us to hate his very soul to drive us to the full potential of his augmentations. I figured out that he wanted us to lose ourselves to the point that rage is simply a force unto itself, completely unconcerned with the nature of our victims. I watched my comrades, all six of them, descend deeper and deeper into absolute savagery as he regressed us. Yahzee, Ben, Nikita, they had tried to kill me several times until I had beaten them back to their senses. And it worked. We became his killing machines. He made us fight barehanded with his sick catches. A grizzly bear infected with rabies, a Delta Uran mountain gorilla, even those captured elites before our surgical augmentations."

"Then why do you let yourself act like that? You're more than capable of at least some level of control over yourself. I've seen the footage of the battle in the main hangar. In your own... odd... way, you Spearheads held perfect coordination until you broke through the covenant perimeter. It's obvious that you could stop yourself from falling into that deep state of madness, even if you can't pull yourself out of it when you do. So why do you still give Ackerson his victory after you've already killed him?"

Then, Kelly saw something in the shock trooper's demeanor that she would have never expected: defeat.

"It's because he has already won. They trusted me. All of them. And I failed."

Nothing else was said for the next few minutes. While Wa spent the time in silent sorrow, Kelly spent it in contemplation. This puzzle was finally falling in place, but she was still missing that one critical piece. Kelly, however, was hesitant to make that one final push into what was obviously a tender emotional spot.

"Ackerson was no fool. He knew that torturing us as he did would make us want to kill him at the first chance. So he came up with a solution that would keep us in line while stoking our hatred for him even more. He threatened our families. Sweeper teams stationed near our homes, waiting on his orders to kill them all. And if anything were to happen to him, a remote-device would send the teams in. Towards the end, I was the only one that could maintain any measure of control. The others made me swear to them that I would stop them from killing Ackerson if they lost control."

"And you wound up killing Ackerson instead." Kelly whispered. "And the sweeper teams moved in."

"I knew that I was already on the edge. We all knew how deadly the augmentations were. All of us prayed that none of us would survive. And when I woke up, Ackerson was right there to tell me that I was the only one left. He even congratulated me. Before I even realized what I was doing, I was already out of the restraints. Ackerson and a dozen guards, doctors, and technicians were all just smears on the walls and floor. Then I realized that I had just condemned all of our families to death."

_So that's what Wa meant when he said that Ackerson had already won._ Even though Wa had literally destroyed Ackerson, in the end Wa had become precisely what the sick bastard had intended him to be: a mindless killing machine.

"Doctors, marines, nurses, techs. Fifty nine of them. I killed them all with my bare hands. Colonel Yang found the facility a week later. He confirmed that Ackerson's threat was real. My family and all of the others were all dead, all of them made to look like accidents. Yang had the teams liquidated, but it didn't change anything. It was my fault. I killed them all."

Kelly was locked in silence as Wa stood there in self-loathing that looked completely out-of-place on a Spartan. What could she say? She was torn between sorrow for Wa's family and hatred for Ackerson. The son of a bitch had, in the end, thoroughly broken Wa as Wa had physically broken him. She could almost hear Ackerson laughing from the grave. Kelly had finally found the last piece of her puzzle of the source of Wa's rage. He just doesn't care anymore.

"I don't really know why I'm telling you all of this. Maybe its because it feels like I'm letting Mei Ling know it was my fault that she died. I guess I'm borrowing a little sister from the commander for this."

Despite the sad story, Kelly had to suppress a chuckle for that one. There were times when she wondered if she acted like a little sister to John. Outside sources seemed to confirm it after all.

"I know that this is probably a bit too late, but for what it's worth I am sorry for what I did to you and the commander."

With that statement, the gears in Kelly's mind began to turn. Call it a plan or just an initiative, but both the rational soldier within her and her instinctive empathy told her that there was one course of action that must be taken. Something that could not only help Wa, but also help herself.

"Thank you for telling me this."

Wa gave no response.

"You know, I think that it's only fair that I tell you something from my past now." Kelly began, though she was still receiving no response. "Do you know how the first Spartan casualty of the war happened?"

Wa scoffed. "I thought that Spartans never die, another reason why shock troopers aren't them."

Kelly shook her head. "Sarcasm doesn't suit you."

Wa looked to her again with a slight nod, telling Kelly to continue. "His name was Sam. He and I, along with John, were best friends almost from the first day of our training. We were close with all Spartans, but us three were inseparable. And he's kind of like you too. He was the biggest and strongest of us."

Wa seemed to almost appreciate the comparison. "How did he die?"

"It was at Chi Ceti near the very beginning of the war." Kelly continued. "Our ship was critically damaged and John decided to board the covenant frigate attacking us and destroy it from the inside. We got scattered from dodging point defense fire and only me, John, and Sam made it in."

It was Kelly's turn for a few moments of silence before she continued, though with a weaker voice. "It was the first time we ever fought the covenant. Sam's armor was breached. He couldn't make the trip back, stayed behind to guard the bomb. He made sure that it went off and took the frigate with him."

514 stayed silent, though he seemed almost understanding to Kelly.

"Ever since then, every time I've had a nightmare, it would be the same thing over and over. In the heat of battle, something would happen. It's different every time, but in the end, John would order me to leave him behind. And I would hear him die as I run away."

Suddenly, Kelly felt very cold. She almost wondered on whether Wa had set the temperature controls on automatic. "And the thing that scares me stiff every time is this: I know that I would do exactly that. I am a Spartan and I can't disobey clear direct orders. I don't want to ever have to leave him behind, but if John orders me, then I know that I will do exactly that."

Fulfilling her hopes, Kelly spotted in Wa's eyes the exact opposite feeling of rage: sympathy. Emboldened, she stood up and approached 514.

"You say that you're sorry that you tried to kill me and John. Do you want to make it up to me?"

Wa nodded without hesitation.

"I've always trusted my gut instincts and they have never failed me. And right now, my instincts are telling me three things. One: we're going to need all the guns we can get for this mission, especially the biggest ones. Two: even the biggest guns may not be enough to save us. And three: you and the Spearheads are the only things that could save us if things go that far south. You guys thrive in situations of absolute chaos and anarchy. We've been lucky so far, but that luck can only go so far, just like it did with Sam."

514 narrowed his eyes. "You're asking me to do the exact thing that I've failed so many before?"

"Yes, because I think that what you need is not to destroy, but to save. Spearhead is your family now, but I get the feeling that they're not the type to need help, at least not that kind of help. But mine does. And I'll do what I can to make sure that you and the lunatics stay on for this op. It'll be up to you guys to redeem yourselves after that, but at least you'll have a chance. If you really want to make it up to me, then promise me that you'll do whatever it takes to make sure that John survives this operation."

Wa gave no response, his mind still frozen with doubt.

"Please." Kelly begged. "From one Spartan to another. And you may help redefine what it means to be a Spartan."

Wa look into Kelly's pleading eyes with his own. The last time Kelly had a good look at those eyes, they were red with rage. But now, those chocolate brown eyes had already given her the answer she wanted.

As she smiled, Wa gave his response.

"I still think you're wrong with 'one Spartan to another', but alright. Get the commander to keep me on and I'll do what I can."


	18. Chapter 18

**Disclaimer: I can't believe that this still has to be said, but Halo is all Bungie's. Any attempts to sue the author will net you at most one of my doomsday devices (Go ahead and take, I have more!).**

**A/N:Well, this is the chapter that finally wraps up our little crisis at hand. I noticed that there is some very divergent opinions on the best outcome here. Whatever side of this conflict you stand, just remember that there is really no ideal answer for this (and in all honesty, I'm going to like the heated back and forth reviews for this chapter). Just remember that this is truly a unique situation as the standard disciplinary measures don't work on the twisted minds of Spearhead. You can't kill them, can't whip them, can't lock them up, can't send them away (well, you can but that would rob the mission of the big swirling storm of cackling chaos, explosions, and death that is also 75 percent of the humor in this fic). I have to be unfair in one way or another to someone and I hope that I've reach a relatively satisfactory balance point. On another note, you will notice by the end of this chapter that I'm a believer in the old saying that "behind every great man, there's a great woman rolling her eyes".**

**And as always, much much credit to my betas Tikigod and Mercenaryhmster.**

* * *

"_Regard your soldiers as your children and they will follow you into the deepest hells. Look upon them as your own beloved sons and they will stand by you even unto death." - Sun Tzu, The Art of War_

* * *

**1400 Hours, October 24th, 2552 (Military Calendar) / Cargo Bay 1, UNS **_**Pillar of Autumn**_**, Battle Group Stanforth, Interstellar Space, Sector 197. **

It was the glares that were the worst part. Dozens of ODSTs stared daggers at the Commander and the Spartans around him. They had been doing that at every opportunity ever since the scuffle at the mats yesterday. Scuttlebutt had gotten around ship of the real reason why Silva hated the Commander's living guts. Though surprisingly, Silva and the others present had faked the report of his injuries as a training exercise. John tried to ignore them, but he kept being drawn back to Silva's smug smirk. Despite the fact that John had nearly killed the Helljumper, he couldn't help feeling that it was Silva who had actually won that fight. For their part, the assembled twenty four fully armored Spartans were on guard, though awkwardly so. The Spartans were trained to kill, not to keep the peace.

The sound of the bay doors parting finally broke the tense atmosphere. Colonel Yang waltzed in with his trademark unmarked black trench coat. Trailing behind him were Spartan-312 and Lieutenant McKay, both in battle armor. The three formed up in the center of the bay in front of several stacked crates.

"I trust that every one here was having a decent time." Yang began in a knowing tone as he eyed Silva and John.

"Yes, sir." John crisply answered

"Of course, Sir." Silva replied in a faux tone of sarcasm. "We're all just one big happy family." John tensed at the insult.

As Lt. McKay sighed, Yang shook his head and answered. "Well stow it for now, Major! I have more important things to do than playing referee between the two of you."

"Understood, sir." Silva replied, though that undertone of malice towards the Spartans remained.

Yang sighed before muttering to himself. It was too soft for the Helljumpers to hear, but the Spartans picked it up just fine. "Why didn't NavSpecWar let me have Dare or Palmer for this op?"

"In any case," Yang continued. "... we have business here to attend to. I have a couple new pieces of equipment to show you all. Each should prove exceptionally useful to your mission. Lieutenants McKay and 312 here have volunteered to demonstrate them."

Yang nodded to McKay and she stepped forward. It was then that those present noticed that McKay's armor was a little different from the normal Mk-9 ODST battle armor. The back piece had a slight resemblance to the Mjolnir's back piece with several small compartments. The body suit underneath the armor pieces seemed fuller. The lieutenant pressed a command into her left wrist interface and the air crackled and lit with a familiar energy. The bright plasma shields covered her body before fading away into a subtle translucence.

"This is the Mk-11 Battle Armor." Yang began. "The first improvement should be obvious. The personal shield is powered by induced gamma emission batteries on the back. It has the equivalent strength of the average elite minor's shields. We haven't deployed it yet as we've had trouble keeping this thing powered in the field for long durations. But thanks to the Covenant, I was able to make a few field modifications to solve that particular problem."

McKay pulled a couple of the new Covenant power cells from her thigh pockets and inserted them into one of her back piece's armor compartments.

"In addition to the shield, we've added aerogel and ARC with the shear thickening fluid infused nanotube weave, it should mostly neutralize most forms of Covenant small arms fire at mid to long range. The Mk 11 also gives some limited physical enhancements via electromuscle fibers. The average user's strength, speed, and dexterity can be increased by an average of 54 percent. The armor can also be locked down to further boost the user's strength, though at the cost of restricting your movement to a relatively slow speed. I recommend that you limit this to mostly lifting or a partial lock down over the shoulders to help with recoil."

At Yang's insistence, Six stepped up with McKay. The two lifted the cases and began passing out combat knives to everyone. When John got his, he noticed that it was a couple times heavier than the normal combat knife and about five centimeters longer. Once unsheathed, the double edged blade proved to be an even greater oddity. One edge was the standard KA-BAR style blade that the older knife bore. The other side, though, had a lateral split into two different parallel blades that reminded the Commander of the old shock knives used in CQC training. The two splitting blades were designed to create a shorting circuit that functioned like a taser, instilling real fight-or-flight instinct into a training exercise. It even had the safety and activation switches in the same places.

"This is the CK-21 Arc Knife that is slated to replace the current CK-17 model. It is designed specifically for fighting a shielded opponent. Lt. 312 shall demonstrate."

From the crate, Six withdrew a 50mm thick piece of Titanium-A plating. Holding it flat against his left arm and wrist, he extended his shield around the plate. In one quick stroke, Six activated the blade and drove it deep into shielded plate. The combined force and charge difference broke through the shields before digging deep into the plating. A small shower of sparks and a few drop of molten metal dripped to the floor before Six drew the knife back.

"There are several features to this knife. The single blade end still functions as a utility knife. Needless to say, there must either be multiple slashes or substantial kinetic force behind the thrust in addition to the electric discharge to breach shields. Obviously, it won't be friendly to any electronics that it stabs or chops through and would internally electrocute its victims. Even a cut could disable an opponent. Finally, the charge on the electrified end should give you a chance to at least temporarily block a Covenant plasma blade. I suggest that you keep any contact with a plasma blade short as it will eventually melt through."

Not surprisingly, John could see that Fred had already gotten the feel for it and was twirling the blade around his fingers. As for John himself, he couldn't help but think of how this thing could have made a difference against Wa back during the boarding operation.

"Very nice. This could certainly even the odds." Silva commented as he shorted the blades. No one missed the thinly veiled threat though.

"Is that a threat, Major?" John responded with his own deadly undertone.

"It is what you want it to be, sir." The major condescendingly replied.

"Enough!" Yang intervened. "The two of you want to kill each other? Do it after this mission! I'll lock you both in a room and you can tear each other to pieces. Until then, I won't have you two wasting my valuable time. Is that understood?"

"Aye sir." Both Silva and John answered.

At the slightest buzz that only the Spartans heard, Yang drew his right sleeve back to examine his wrist com.

"Heh, figures. I knew we should have gone with an inflection modulation. Well, that concludes my time here. Dismissed!"

As the room emptied, John and Silva both took their time to make for the door. As the last of the other ODSTs left, only Silva and John remained. The two proud soldiers stood staring each other eye to eye just a couple meters apart. If anyone was watching, they would have expected round two of yesterday's brawl. They would be disappointed though. Both Silva and John threw their knives and sidearms off to the side of the bay. For added measure, the Commander took his helmet off. The past aside, they were both soldiers. In addition to the regs, they had been explicitly ordered to stay their hands. There would be no punches thrown this time.

"Listen to me very carefully." John began in a stern but compromising tone. "For what it's worth, I'm sorry that your squad mates died that day. But they were the ones that attacked me first! What I did, I did only to defend myself."

"That's what you tell yourself at night? You freaks are even more deluded that I thought. You say that you're sorry. I bet that you haven't even given my men a second thought for the last twenty seven years."

"You have no idea what was happening then." John countered. "It was my first day off the bed after the augmentation. There was no possible way for me to get full control of it all that quickly."

By now, the major was truly incensed. "But you could have figured out what was going on right after you collapsed Mason's entire ribcage. You could have backed off. You could have stopped before you killed them all. But no, you didn't. "

Silva raised an accusatory finger at the Spartan. "And do you know why? It's because you were following orders. That fat fuck that ordered you into the ring knew that this was exactly what would happen. And you just followed his orders without a second thought like the good little freak you are. It didn't even occur to you that you should have stopped right then and there. You freaks aren't soldiers. And you know why?"

Silva pounded his clenched right fist into his chest.

"Cause you got nothing in here. No conscience. No honor. No soul. You're just glorified killing machines. You'd kill every person on board without a second thought if you were ordered to. Hell, I bet that you wouldn't even bat an eye at killing another one of your freaks barehanded if it came from the top."

How dare he! How dare Silva spit on the memory of every fallen Spartan, every fallen member of his family. This couldn't go unanswered.

"I have never wanted to kill anyone since the first time I picked up a rifle. I could recall the name of every soldier that have died under my command, even how they looked and how they died. I honor their sacrifices with my own every time I go into battle and every time I saved another life from the covenant.

Silva scoffed, almost amused by John's words. "That's the lines they taught you to regurgitate, I bet. Maybe you even believe it. Keep telling that to yourself. But the time comes, your true self, that mindless drone inside you, will always win. If I had the choice, I wouldn't trust you with a single one of my men. But I don't have a choice in the matter. Just know this, commander. I'll follow you to the gates of hell if I'm ordered to. But the moment this war is over, I will kill you."

Before John could find a response, the bay doors opened once more. Captain Keyes and the fully armored but unarmed Jorge walked in, their stride strong with purpose. Both the commander and the major quickly came to attention.

"Captain on deck." Silva announced.

"Dismissed, major!" Captain Keyes shouted.

Silva quickly complied, but not before giving John one last murderous glance as he passed the doors.

"Friendly fellow, isn't he?" Jorge quipped.

"At ease, commander." Keyes said. John visibly relaxed despite the armor. Despite his armored frame, John now looked visibly depressed and drained. "At least you two weren't trying kill each other. Care to explain what's going on?"

John spent the next couple of minutes detailing the nature of this situation between him and Silva while the Captain lit up his pipe.

"I don't think you have to worry about Silva, commander." Keyes continued. "The major is a hothead, but he's a man of his word. And he's a good soldier. He won't harm a superior officer. And even if he did, I'm sure that you could handle him."

"It's not Silva eventually trying to kill me that's troubling me, sir. My command is flying apart at the seams. I have mutiny in one hand and on another an entire battalion of soldiers that seems just as ready to fight my Spartans as they would the Covenant. I honestly do not know if I can succeed in my mission with resources like these."

"Well, maybe that's your problem right there." Keyes said before he took a long puff. "Forgive me for bending your words a bit, commander, but maybe 'resources' is the problem. There's not much that you can do with the Helljumpers, but fortunately you don't have to. What's done is done. The ODSTs may hate your guts, but they're still good soldiers. They'll follow you to hell and back, even if they're telling you to go screw yourself the whole time. But with those Spearheads..."

Keyes took another thoughtful moment to enjoy his pipe. "This is why I think you should have been given officer training first, though I can understand why they didn't as we had so little time in between Sigma Octanus and our launch from Reach. From what you've told me, this whole thing seems like a perfect example of one of Sun Tzu's nuggets of wisdom: 'If soldiers break in battle or disobey orders, then it is the fault of the commander.'"

"Sir!" John reeled. "You can't be implying that I..."

"No. No. No. Commander. You misunderstand me here. I'm not saying that this crisis at hand is because of any battlefield lacking of yours. A lot of people make this mistake in understanding this quote. What Sun Tzu meant with this is that leading by example is not always enough. The ideal commander must know his soldiers, specifically what he can expect of them and how he can get it. He must be as hard as steel, but even the strongest steel bends a bit under pressure. Good soldiers must adapt themselves to their commanders, but the reverse is just as true. That means asking lots of questions. From what you've told me, you didn't really do that, though I can understand why. Your experiences with your own Spartans have molded each of you to mesh perfectly with each other. Yes, Wa failed to tell you about his condition and so did the other Spearheads, but you had enough hints that you should have known well enough to press the issue before it blew up in your face. Don't take this the wrong way, Commander, but while Wa attacked you and the Spearheads mutinied, you're just as much at fault here at the end of the day for letting it get this far when you could have nipped this in the bud earlier."

John sighed as he fought the temptation to cover his face with his hands. The Captain was right. While Spearhead were a bunch of mutinous lunatics, he should have seen this coming and tried to prevent it. At the end of the day, there are no excuses; a good commander should have been able to rein them in. All the hints were there: Wa's 'stay the fuck out of my way', Nicole's passionate and almost personal defense of her team's effectiveness, Richard's ever boiling temper, Steven's almost absolute disregard for regulations, and Jonathan's... well, whatever one would call that. John should have either refused to even employ Spearhead in the first place or find a way to make sure that their particular brand of applied tactical insanity didn't interfere with the mission.

"So what do you suggest that I do, sir?" John asked

The captain gave a reassuring pat on John's shoulder. "You still have time to salvage the situation. As the captain of this ship, I have the authority to weigh in on this issue. But considering that it's a Spartan matter and you are their commanding officer, I don't think that I should intervene or that I'm even qualified to. But I can tell you this..."

Keyes gestured to Jorge.

"Start asking questions. I myself would start with why."

With that Keyes departed, leaving the cargo bay to the two slightly confused Spartans.

"I guess the Captain meant why the Spearheads mutinied." Jorge began.

"I guess so." John replied. "What do you think?"

Jorge sighed at the challenge before him. "I said it before, commander, but I'll say it again: I don't think that I – or anyone really – are capable of really understanding those Spearheads. In all honesty, I think that you're better off asking Carter."

"But I'm asking you, Jorge. You have experience and insight on them, but you're still one of us. I need your perspective on all of this."

Jorge spent a few moments in thought. "The IVs don't see this the way you and I do. I've always thought that it comes from them having such a large formation, not a cozy little unit like with us. To them, Spearhead is not a nuisance to be harnessed and tolerated."

John found that concept to be completely foreign and alien to him. "What else could anyone possibly see them as?"

"I don't know, Commander. I might have worked with them for years, but some things you just don't know unless you were there from the start. But I do know this: the Spearheads have saved the lives of nearly every single Spartan-IV at least once. Hell, the only exception that I can think of is Six. And no Spartan-IV has ever lodged a complaint against the Spearheads after serving with them once."

John sighed as he took in the sheer scope of the dilemma before him: no wonder the IVs weren't happy about him getting rid of Spearhead. They all think that they own them not only their own lives but also their fellow teammates' lives. If someone had done that for the IIs, John would have done the same thing.

Still, the hard logic of his decision to dismiss Spearhead remained sound. The mission had to take priority.

"Sir?" Jorge asked.

"They do know that I did what was necessary, right?" John returned with downed voice. "Leaving aside the point that Wa had tried to kill me and Kelly, the needs of the mission come before any other consideration. I did what was necessary to deal with a potential danger to all of us. And considering what Wa did, I could have done a lot worse."

"I know, Commander." Jorge replied. "But you did ask me for my take on what they think."

Well, that was something to work with. Still, John knew that he needed more. Perhaps it was time to consult a higher wisdom. For the first time that day, John knew exactly what to do.

"Thank you for your advice, Jorge. Dismissed."

* * *

Somehow, John wasn't surprised that he would find her on the starboard observation deck. Despite the fact that he was sure that she had already noticed him walking in from the hallway, John made an effort to be as quiet as possible to maintain the tranquility in the room. Turning the corner, John noticed the faint scent of tea in the air, though it was not a flavor that he was familiar with. The commander tracked it to its source: a steaming tea pot sitting next to Linda-058. The Spartan in question was in deep meditation, sitting cross legged on top of a small pillow in just a tank top and boxers.

All Spartans were intelligent, many even more so than he. But Linda was unique in more just her superhuman skills with a precision rifle: of all the Spartans, she was the only one that John would consider as truly wise. Perhaps it was because of the odd mixture of her powerful emotions and her unbreakable control over them; John had witnessed the times on the battlefield when Linda became the embodiment of cold fury. Perhaps it was because she had a perspective that only someone that had spent so much time behind an Oracle-7 scope could have; those emerald green eyes always seemed to be able to know everything about a person with just a few seconds of observation. But whatever the reason, the crimson maned huntress, the strongest Spartan in John's opinion, was the commander's most trusted adviser.

Linda opened her eyes and turned her deep gaze at John. At that moment, John couldn't help but feel as if he was under a microscope, or more appropriately, an Oracle-7 scope. Still, she looked as if she already knew the questions that he was going to ask.

"What's on your mind, commander." Linda spoke softly.

"I was wondering if we could talk."John asked

With the smallest and barest of smiles, Linda responded. "Always."

Linda came to a stand and placed the teapot and cup on a nearby table. She offered a sample of the tea to John who accepted it.

"This isn't the black tea I see in the mess. What flavor is this?"

"Jasmine. A far better flavor in my opinion."

John was a little surprised at that one. "We're in the middle of deep space. How did you get Jasmine tea or even a teapot to begin with?"

Linda chuckled ever so slightly. "Colonel Yang has a surprisingly good stock with him. When he noticed me eying the box of Jasmine leaves on his desk a couple days ago, he offered me a box and the set."

John was amused at that. How did the colonel always seem to be able to give everyone what they wanted even if they hadn't yet known that they wanted it? He must have been a former quartermaster or the like. It would certainly explain more than a few of his eccentricities.

The next couple of minutes passed in silence. He was distracted for the moment and Linda could see that he wanted to enjoy it. John so rarely had any informal interactions beyond Kelly, though Linda was the odd exception. For John, Linda was unique in that her personal strength and independence on the battlefield made it easier for John to drop his mantle of command around her. Her quiet individualist nature made her somehow both close enough to confide in yet distant enough to maintain objectivity to a degree that Kelly couldn't always match.

Still, John could not dodge his problems indefinitely and Linda was ready to listen.

"I've screwed up pretty badly, haven't I?" Linda simply nodded in response. "I should have seen it all coming and should have done something about it ahead of time."

"And you didn't. Should have, but didn't." Linda commented.

"What do you think of the Spearheads?" John inquired.

Linda spent a few moments in thought as she took another sip of tea. "Do you remember that old motion picture that Doctor Halsey showed us, the one on the American General George S. Patton?"

Ah, yes. John remembered that movie. It was something to pass the time during the last leg of the trip to Chi Ceti back twenty five years ago. The ride was too short for cryo-sleep but too long to know what to do with. It was a silly movie, really. For all of his amazing accomplishments, Patton had so many flaws from his short temper to his overinflated ego that it was a wonder that he was even in uniform to begin with.

"What General Bradley said to Patton during the Sicilian campaign I think perfectly encapsulates Spearhead: 'There's one big difference between you and me. I do this job because I've been trained to do it. You do it because you love it.' Those Spearheads are the very avatars of war and violence in its most basic form once you strip away all the formalities. They leave nothing but chaos, death, and destruction in their wake with the added touch of madness. Really more warriors than soldiers, they would have been a far better fit in ancient times before the advent of industrialized warfare. Each have their own defining flaw that seems to complement those of the others. With Steven, he is a philandering scoundrel incapable of seeing rules as anything more than guidelines or suggestions. Jonathan is simply insane, the very definition of a functional lunatic. Richard is utterly incapable of not taking anything personally; every challenge is to be overcome by sheer force of will. He wouldn't be satisfied with just killing his opponents; he'd have to go piss and dance on their graves to make his point that it was wrong to even challenge him in the first place. Nicole has a dissonant serenity to her that can find order from chaos; she's like the composer leading the symphony from hell who can't stop herself just before the overture reaches its crescendo even as the theater catches fire. She would lash out at demands to stop even though the sheer volume of her masterful symphony was driving people deaf. And Wa is unstoppable because he is a man with nothing left to lose. But at the same point, he has nothing left to win. Whatever Ackerson did to him, it had destroyed Wa utterly, leaving a creature of such complete and terrible malice restrained only by the shattered memories of the past and the haunting calls of restless ghosts. Combined, they are like entropy itself made flesh, utterly unpredictable in its method with the inescapable end state of disorder and death. In sum, war is their purpose. It is what defines them."

"Are you saying that they are no different from us?" John probed.

"No. Our purpose is victory. We fight to win so that we can stop fighting. They fight to win so they can keep fighting, to wage war as an end in itself. Peace would kill them in a way that the Covenant could never hope to match."

It was almost poetic the way Linda described her own view of Spearhead. But that wasn't what John needed. Not surprisingly, though, Linda seemed to have already anticipated his questions.

"Be honest with yourself. Describing your problem as a fractured command is too general to even begin solving this problem. Boil it down to its most basic components."

Fighting off a groan, John began his little confession. "I still need them. Spearhead is utterly incapable of stealth or subtlety, but they are better than even us in an open fight. I can't compromise on Wa despite how much combat power I'd lose, but I still need those other four. Despite how much I loathe having them with me, as a commander I can't let this thing that could save so many lives slip past my fingers."

"But it isn't the Spearheads that has you unnerved. It's the Nobles, isn't it?" Linda extrapolated.

John nodded. "I was thrilled to find out about them. They were like a continuation of us. Perfect soldiers, until now. They know that I did what was necessary, but I saw how they looked at me and the Spearheads. And Kat... Even now, they're not even really guarding the Spearheads so much as leisurely keeping them under surveillance. Colonel Yang spoke to me a couple of days ago. He said that the IVs were indeed Spartans, but that they weren't 'my' Spartans, at least just yet. I had no idea what he meant at the time, but I now I do."

"And now you're afraid that you've broken that bond with them before it even had the chance to fully form." Linda finished.

"Yes. I could care less about Spearhead at this point. But if the Nobles are representative of the rest of the IVs..."

John paused as his mind once again run over the consequences.

"You're afraid that the IVs won't be truly with us?" Linda finished.

"They're Spartans. They'll follow us as any real soldiers would. But is that all that they'll do?"

"You don't want Spartan-IVs and Spartan-IIs," Linda concluded. "You want just plain Spartans."

John somberly nodded. "Ever since the augmentation, we have only ever lost Spartans. Our family grew smaller and smaller with no prospect of reversing. Then we find out that an entire regiment has been trained without our knowledge. More than that, each of the IVs want to truly become one of us in spirit. But now, because they think that what I'm doing to Wa is unfair, I could lose all of that. They could become just another group of soldiers that would follow my orders to the letter, but never anything more than that."

"So now you're between that proverbial rock and a hard place." Linda summed. "You have to maintain your authority and neutralize a potential threat from within. But to do that would cost you that trust from the IVs."

"Yes." John admitted, his tone filled with weariness. "I have no idea what to do."

Linda walked over to the window, inviting John to come beside her. Leaning slightly against the rail, the Spartan sniper continued.

"It's true that you can't compromise on either points. But maybe there's a way in between that would leave everyone, if not happy, then at least satisfied. The key to all of this is not so much substance as form. They believe Spearhead to be one of their own, though they concede the necessity of your actions. The question is why do they think that? The answer is more than just camaraderie. What do you think it is?"

Time passed as John's thoughts were lost in the cup of jasmine tea in his hand, but no answers came forth.

"Keep in mind the legacy of the IVs. They know what had happened to the IIIs, how Ackerson so flippantly gambled with their lives." Linda offered. "With that in mind, consider this: if Sam or Kelly had ended up like Wa after the augmentation, what would you have done? Would you have ran them into cold storage?"

"No." John finally answered. "I wouldn't have given up on them."

"To the IVs, Wa is a living monument to what had happened to the IIIs. It is that terrible legacy that you're up against. You have to prove that you're better than Ackerson. And that's why you have to make it clear to them that while you stand by your decision, you're not giving up on the Spearheads. You have to show that we are Spartans and we take care of our own."

So that's it? The Nobles just want to know that John won't just toss Spearhead to the wayside? It would require a little bit of backtracking on his part, but so be it. Spartan-117 was indeed a proud soldier, but he understood well the virtues of humility. Despite his reservations, John would be willing to swallow his pride and make one small concession to put the IVs back with the IIs if the overall substance of the matter could be preserved.

"Fine. I'll call everyone to assemble tomorrow and let them know. But I still don't know what to do with the rest of Spearhead."

"That should be simple." Linda said before she sat back onto the pillow into her meditative stance. "For all the chaos and destruction the rest of Spearhead causes, there is one redeeming quality about them that you can use to your advantage. Their standing with Wa is proof that they do have a sense of honor and a moral standard, however odd, that they adhere to. Use that to bind their loyalty to you."

* * *

**1000 Hours, October 25th, 2552 (Military Calendar) / Number 3 Barracks, UNS **_**Pillar of Autumn**_**, Battle Group Stanforth, Interstellar Space, Sector 197. **

As the rest of the Spartan-IIs, all adorned in their armor, filed out of the barracks, Kelly moved in closer to John. This was her opportunity to talk to John alone. The last two days had robbed her of any chance to push her objective. Considering that the Spartans were being assembled in cargo bay five for something big that was sure to involve the Spearheads, this might be her last chance.

Uncharacteristically trailing the column, Kelly was the last person to leave the barracks. Outside, she saw Linda and John conversing. Surprisingly, the commander had the battle colors of the United Nations Defense Force with him.

"Do you really think that it'll work?" John asked uneasily.

"Trust me." Linda responded with a pat to the commander's shoulder. Linda turned away, giving Kelly a respectful nod before departing with the rest of the Spartans ahead.

Before John too could turn away, he spotted Kelly taking her helmet off. He knew that look in her eyes well. The commander ordered the others to wait for him outside cargo bay five.

Walking back into the barracks, John placed his own helmet aside and began. "What is it, Kelly?"

"What are you going to do with the Spearheads, John?" Kelly asked bluntly.

The Commander raised an eye in confusion. "I'm going to deal with Spearhead once and for all. Why are you asking me here?"

"Are you going to let them stay on?" Kelly inquired, dodging John's question.

"That depends on how they react."

"And Wa?"

"My decision still stands. When Colonel Yang leaves, he'll take Wa back to Reach. I'll think of what to do with him once we get back from the mission."

Kelly inwardly sighed. On the plus side, at least one problem might already be solved. Mustering more courage than it would take to storm a shade turret, Kelly dropped her bombshell.

"I want you to let Wa stay on for this mission, John."

Now John was truly stunned silent. A few conspicuous seconds passed before he could respond.

"No." John firmly stated before turning back towards the door.

"John. Wait!" Kelly spoke as she reached out to stop her CO. "Just hear me out."

"There is nothing to hear, Kelly. 514 is a threat to this mission and I'm going to take care of it."

"Damn it, John. Would you just listen to me?" Kelly pleaded. "We need him."

"No, we don't. We can do without him, no matter how powerful he is." John returned, his tone filled with exasperation. "Why does him staying on matter to you?"

"Because I think that he deserves a second chance. And I can control him. I've spent enough time with him to know how and why..."

"Wait!" John interrupted. "That's where you've been for the last few days?"

Despite the tense exchange, Kelly couldn't help but be amused by John's lapse. "I guess that you had too much on your mind to notice. But yes, I've been talking to him. Maybe you should have done that more in the first place."

John gripped Kelly by both shoulders. "Kelly, have you lost your mind? He could have killed you! He did try to kill you."

Kelly simply grinned. She was touched by what John really meant. He was angry Wa trying to kill him, but he was far more incensed that she was involved in that brawl.

"That's the thing, though. No, he couldn't. Don't you remember that he refused to hurt me during the fight? Now I know why. And I also know that I can stop him from hurting anyone else that he's not supposed to."

The commander was frustrated to his limit. "Look, I'm not going to throw him away if that is what you're afraid of. But this is not the time for dealing with this. And why would you talk to him? Why would you even trust someone with so little control?"

"I... don't really know." Kelly admitted. "Maybe it's because he reminds me of Sam in some odd way."

"Sam was nothing like him!" John responded with a harsher tone than he wanted, giving Kelly a slight recoil. "I'm sorry. I'm not angry with you. But my decision is final. Wa goes."

That said, John reached for his helmet.

By now, Kelly was desperate. Her gut instincts told her that John was so convinced of the danger that Wa brought about with his mere presence that wouldn't be swayed. Luckily, she did have one last card to play, the one tool of persuasion that only she had: an emotional appeal from a childhood friend. Dirty, but effective.

"Please, John." Kelly said, stopping John cold. "I'm begging you. Let him stay for me."

That had the desired effect. John's eyes visibly softened as he looked straight into her eyes.

"I've never really asked for anything before, but I'm asking you now. Trust me. Trust me like you always have. My instinct tells me that Wa won't be a threat anymore, and that I can make him into the Spartan that he was meant to be."

Kelly almost felt bad for sticking the proverbial knife into John's heart and twisting it, but she knew him well enough to know exactly where to hit him in an argument. Still, she wasn't sure that it would work, evidenced by the bulging veins on John's neck. Fortunately, she still had one more dirty trick for her line of attack.

Kelly pressed forth. "The way I see it, Wa is for all intents and purposes one of the last of the IIIs. He was meant to lead them and to die with them. Ackerson had destroyed so many Spartans. Won't you give me the chance to save one that can still be saved?"

When John closed his eyes, lowered his head, and sighed, Kelly knew that victory was hers.

"Fine. I'll let him stay. For you." John emphasized. "But the moment there's even a hint something would go wrong again, I'll have him put down."

With a heartwarming smile on her lips, Kelly launched herself at her best friend, wrapping John in a tight embrace. It took a few second for the shocked Spartan to awkwardly return the embrace.

"Thank you, John."

* * *

The massive doors of cargo bay five opened for Spartans 117 and 087 with Kelly holding the flag.

"Officer on deck!" Fred announced, though the Spartans were already at attention.

Kelly took her place among the already assembled Spartans at the center whilst John walked forward. The commander inspected the five members of Spearhead. While the twins and Rich still had the air of defiance around them, Nicole and Kat had a guilty shadow on their faces while Wa stood expressionless as was customary in a non-combat setting.

"You people are a disgrace to the very concept of Spartans." The Commander began. "I don't know why Mendez let you out in the field. None of you have any right on a battlefield."

John stepped in closer to Nicole. "For what it's worth, I can almost admire how you stood by your team. I just wished that it was for a more deserving cause."

Next up was Kat. "Likewise, I think that you are an otherwise excellent soldier. It's a shame that you had to scar Carter's record with this."

And then Richard. "You should be in psychiatric therapy."

Then Steven. "You should be in rehab."

Then Jonathan. "You should be in a straight jacket."

And finally Wa. "I don't even know where you belong."

John turned back to the center. "I would be well within my rights as your commanding officer to see each and everyone one of you court-martialed!"

That brought an element of fear into Nicole eyes, though the rest of her team seemed completely apathetic.

"But unfortunately for me, you're all still Spartans. We do not abandon our own, no matter how much you deserve it. When this mission is over, I'll do what it takes to whip you all into proper soldiers if it's the last thing I ever do."

Steven chuckled at that one, though he was quickly stifled by Nicole and Kat, who now had a flicker of hope in their eyes. Still, it was an empty threat and everyone knew it. If CPO Mendez couldn't turn them into proper Spartans, what hope did he have?

"Until then, I still need all of you for this mission. We will do whatever it takes to succeed as we have always done. None of you are off the hook, but I am giving you something that none of you deserve: a second chance. For what you people did, I'm busting all of you down a rank. There will be a reprimand on your records and, except for Nicole, all of you can kiss any chance of rising above ensign goodbye."

Nicole and Kat looked as if someone had kicked them right in their stomachs, but the rest of the team gave a response that could be summed up as 'meh'.

John looked at Wa, the twins, and Richard with a scowl. "I knew that it wouldn't mean that much to you people, so let me say this. You might not care about your ranks, but Nicole does. Since you are her subordinates, every time you people pull something like this off again, Nicole will pay the price for failing to keep you lunatics in line. Understood?"

That one elicited the collective shock that John was looking for. Even Wa had his eyebrows raised.

"Understood?" John shouted this time.

"Aye, sir." The Spearheads begrudgingly acknowledged. Behind John, there were more murmurs of approval.

"One more thing! I want your personal oaths to me to follow my lead. If you ever want to fight on the field again, you will give me the UNDF oath of service!"

A pregnant silence hung in the air for a few moments. This is a humiliation that no Spartans had ever had to endure. But John knew that word of honor meant something to Spearhead. If they didn't want to give him their loyalty, he'd force it out of them.

The Spearheads looked at each other awkwardly for a few minutes. Finally Nicole stepped forth, prompting Kelly to bring the flag to John.

"I'll go first."

The Spartan-IV came to attention and raised her right.

"I, Nicole-458, swear to be true to the United Nations of Earth, and to serve honestly and faithfully against all of humanity's enemies whatsoever; and to observe and obey the orders of the United Nations Assembly and the orders of the Generals and officers set over me by them."

When she was finished, Nicole looked as if a great weight had been lifted off of her shoulders. Despite what had amounted to a very public mea culpa, she was happy to know that this whole affair was coming to an acceptable close. Kat took the oath next, followed by Steven until the rest of the team finished.

"Good. Now we can get back to the mission at hand." John said. "Dismissed!"

With that, the Spartans began filing out, their stances noticeably more relaxed than before with John and Kelly staying behind. As Linda passed, she gave John a swipe of two finger across her visor, prompting John to return the gesture. But before they could all leave, they heard a commotion behind them.

"Back to the fight, boys!" Nicole shouted. The twins and Richard cheered, passing out joints and blunts among themselves.

How did they even get those?

"This calls for a jig!" Steven declared before pulling out a fife from his pocket. 666 played a few notes that every Spartan found vaguely familiar. Richard and Jonathan finally provided the vocals.

_Hi ho. Hi ho.  
It's off to war we go!  
With sharpened blades and hand grenades.  
HI HO!  
Hi ho hi ho hi ho_

The departing Spartan-IIs noticeably picked up their pace, though the Nobles simply shrugged and continued their leisurely stroll out while Nicole tried to suppress her laughter. Just as John was about to clamp down on Spearhead, Kelly gently elbowed him.

"Let them have their fun for a few moments. It'll be the last bit that they'll have for a while."

Well, considering what he had planned for them, John guessed that Kelly was right. He'd let them have a few moments of heaven before he sent them to hell.

Just as Spearhead was about to leave, John blocked their path.

"I'm afraid you won't be getting off the hook that easy."

Richard groaned. "What else do we have to do now?"

* * *

A ship's pantry never really sleeps when the ship isn't in slipspace and the crew outside the cryotubes. The job of feeding literally thousands of crew members is a 24/7 job for the three shifts. Most of the time, it is simply following the printed directions on pre-prepared provisions. But major hub ships like the repair platform _Ironworks_ also serve as an ad hoc destination for leave among UNSC personnel in deep space as their spacious interiors give the platforms one great attraction: the ability to store and cook fresh food. Considering that the _Ironworks_ was tending to Admiral Stanforth's entire battlegroup, the pantry could have been mistaken for a battle zone.

Today, however, the _Ironwork's_ kitchen staff had some back up.

Sitting on top of a large pile of spuds, Nicole, Kat, Steven, Jonathan, and Richard shot icy glares at the incredulous cooks as they gaped at the scene. Even if they were only cooks, they could one day tell their loved ones that they were witnesses to something never seen before in history:

Spartans peeling potatoes.

When the five were not staring down the cooks, they were left stewing at their lot for the next five days. The only exception was Jonathan, whose mind seemed to be characteristically thousands of light years away and concocting ever stranger IEDs with his imaginary hamsters chiming in from time to time.

"You know," the demolitionist spoke through his maniacal grin. "Give me two cans of C8, some iron files, a wheel from warthog, an onion, a grapefruit, and a goat and we could be done with this entire pile in twenty minutes. And you don't want to know what the onion is for."

Kat piqued her eyebrows. "Well what's the goat for?"

Jonathan simply fell into a mad giggle.

"You don't want to know that one either." Nicole answered.

"This blows!" Steven complained. "I can't smoke. I can't drink. And I'm away from the ladies." Steven shot a scoundrel grin at Kat. "Though you could help me out with that, Kat."

The response to that entreaty was a high speed potato colliding with Steven's forehead, knocking him off of his pile.

"Keep dreaming, you man-whore!" Kat spat.

A single finger rose up from the potato pile. "I will!"

"And where the fuck is Wa in all of this?" Richard spoke up. "He's the one that started this shitstorm. Why isn't he in here with us?"

Nicole chuckled as she picked up another potato. "Because while he might have beaten the Commander into the medbay, he has the insanity defense. And Wa didn't actually refuse orders."

Richard had a look of absolute indignation. "Aw, screw him!"

"Hey Nikki, why didn't we use that?" Jonathan questioned.

"Because it has to be full blown ax crazy, Jon." Kat added.

Jonathan actually looked a bit put off by that. Kat started chuckling. Nicole rolled her eyes and went back to the potatoes. Kat shooting down Steven, literally this time, Richard pissed off, Jonathan attempting to build yet another explosive device of destruction with a slightly productive side effect. It was just another day with Spearhead. They were her team. They'd stick with her to the end (most likely a very explosive end if Jonathan had anything to say about it). They were irreplaceable. They showed the difference between friends and the best of friends. That old 20th century saying was true: "You can rely on friends to bail you out, but not the best of friends because they'll be right there behind bars with you while you laughed your collective asses off."

* * *

"Colonel!" Yang heard someone shout behind him. It was 312.

'Excuse me, captain." Yang said to Captain Keyes, who was with him at the time. The colonel placed his hand in front of the elevator door, holding it open for his adopted son. Six slipped in and saluted his superiors. The three occupants descended into the very bowels of ship.

"What's on your mind, son?" Yang asked.

"I just have a few questions about the events of the last few days." Six explained.

"Care to elaborate on that, Lieutenant?"

"Well, I'm glad that we have this whole mess with the Spearheads behind us. But I was curious on why you didn't intervene."

Yang and Keyes collectively chuckled as if they knew something Six didn't. "Well, what makes you think that I hadn't intervened?"

Six gave no answer.

With a smirk, Yang gave his answer. "When you do something right..."

"... then they won't know that you did anything at all." Keyes finished as the elevator stopped.

"What did you two do?" Six asked suspiciously as the three exited into the hallways towards the briefing room.

"Let me teach you a lesson, son, that I hope you'll never have to apply. One of the best ways to manipulate someone is to give them two reasonable choices of which they believe that they have absolute control over. You then make sure that the course of events drive them to make the decision that you want them to make. This way, they think that you had empowered them when they were really quite powerless the whole time. In this case, the Commander thought that he could get rid of Wa or even all of Spearhead. Technically, he could have and I might have intervened depending on the situation. But I didn't have to because he never actually had a choice. Like any good officer, Spartan-117 places priority on the well being and cohesion of his subordinates. While on the surface, it would suggest getting rid of those lunatics, it actually means finding a way of keeping them on and reining them in. Though I was afraid that Wa would have to go regardless, I'm quite happy with the way it turned out. In the end, the Commander wouldn't just let such a concentration of raw offensive combat power just slip through his fingers. So I made sure that nothing interrupted Spartan-087's talking sessions with Wa and that the Commander didn't know what she was doing until it was too late to stop her. That's why I gave Wa his own cargo bay when the rest of his team was thrown in hack."

"And I gave the commander a gentle kick in the pants by reminding him of an officer's duty." Keyes finished.

Six was slightly surprised at the sheer audacity of the Captain and the Colonel's subtle machinations, but he wasn't shocked. The Spartan knew his adopted father well enough to expect something like this. It was a pretty big hint that something was going on by the Colonel's laid back attitude during the crisis.

"But why? Why go through all of this?" Six asked.

"It's because the Commander had it coming. This was exactly the kind of learning experience that he needed." Keyes answered.

"Didn't you think that it was not the best of ideas to promote someone from a Master Chief Petty Officer to Commander in just a single day?" Yang continued. "It wasn't my idea and I didn't like it, but I went along with it because there were no good alternatives. In an ideal situation, we would have sent Spartan-117 off to officer training first before placing him in command of the 1st Spartan Combat Group. So consider this crash course officer training, one that the Commander passed with flying colors despite the underwhelming start. I kind of expected that something like this would happen, though I admit that I had never considered that it could have been as bad as Wa putting the Commander in the med bay for a week. I didn't engineer this whole thing, but I took the opportunity when I saw it. Now that he's dealt with the worst that I had to offer, he should have no problem dealing with the rest of the much calmer and saner Spartan-IVs."

The three arrived at the entrance to the briefing room.

"Sorry, son. But the captain and I have a briefing to attend. Apparently, the prowlers Admiral Stanforth sent out found something big."

"Aye, Sir." Six saluted before departing. Yang and Keyes entered the briefing room, finding Admiral Stanforth already seated along with a couple of his aides, while opposite of him stood Lieutenant Haverson. Cortana's holographic avatar was present off to the side on a secondary holotank. The Admiral looked noticeably tense, a seeming augur of things to come.

"Ah, lieutenant. Welcome back." Yang greeted. The two exchanged salutes before being seated. "How was High Charity?"

Before the lieutenant could answer, Admiral Stanforth intervened. "Let's begin, gentlemen. We're going to need all the time we can get."

"Aye, sir. But just how big is this find, admiral?" Keyes asked as the central holotank lit up. It was a video recording of High Charity from the inside. Vast structures of elegant curves and carapace purple betrayed its cultural origin.

"How did you get this?" Yang demanded of Haverson.

"Long story, sir." The ONI operative responded.

"Just watch, colonel." The Admiral ordered.

The video frame turned towards a group of human civilians kenneled into some sort of prison camp. Men, women, and children were enclosed together by plasma force fields. They looked terrified and exhausted, though still defiant. An assortment of covenant soldiers wearing glowing ornate ceremonial armor stood at guard.

"Cortana, zoom in and enhance." The Admiral commanded.

Cortana followed suit, zooming in on one specific man. He was past middle age, his short smoky brown hair dotted with strands of gray. Like the others, he looked tired and unshaven, both worried and determined.

Despite his current state, everyone in the room recognized who he was.

"This changes everything!" Keyes uttered.

"My god! He's still alive." Yang spoke incredulously. "Admiral Preston Jeremiah Cole is still alive!"


	19. Chapter 19

**Disclaimer: I can't believe that this still has to be said, but Halo is all 343 Industry's. Any attempts to sue the author will net you at most one of my doomsday devices (Go ahead and take, I have more!).**

**A/N: For people who didn't read too much into the books, I suggest using he halo wiki article on Admiral Cole and specifically on the Volkov family to give context to Admiral Stanforth and Colonel Yang's conversation.**

* * *

**2300 Hours, October 25th, 2552 (Military Calendar) / Briefing Room, UNS **_**Pillar of Autumn**_**, Battle Group Stanforth, Interstellar Space, Sector 197. **

The holographic display disappeared with a dramatic flick of Cortana's ghostly fingers. Both Yang and Keyes looked over Haverson.

Well, let them hear it, Lieutenant." Cortana said.

"As you all know," Admiral Stanforth offered. "I sent the lieutenant on the _Dark Side of the Moon_ to the X-405 system."

"Yes, I recall." Yang answered. "Intel said that High Charity's little intra-covenant tour was to make its next pit stop there. But there was no way that a prowler could make it there on time. I had to rig the _Truth and Reconciliation's_ slipstream drive onto the _Lightfoot_ so that the _Dark Side_ could ride its slipstream wake."

"This whole thing began right as we were about to exit slipspace outside the system. Captain Vasquez and I ran into some serious trouble right away."

* * *

_On board the very small command deck of the Dark Side of the Moon, ONI lieutenant Elias Haverson, ONI's representative for this mission, stood off to the corner and away from the hustle and bustle of Captain Vasquez's crew. Technically, the entire crew was ONI and accustomed to dangerous recon ops. But having a personal representative from the higher-ups with them was very unnerving. Only the AI Gehlan and Captain Vasquez could be considered "calm."  
_

"_Captain Vasquez." Gehlan spoke in a thick German accent. "We should be approaching the__ X-405 System within ten minutes."_

"_Very well, Gehlan. Tell the Lightfoot that they can break off and wait for us. We'll take it from here." Vasquez responded. _

_As the main holotank showed the LightFoot breaking off, there was some substantial turbulence as the prowler left the frigate's slipstream wake. _

_The crew was nervous beyond nervous now. Usually, a prowler's crew is told everything there is to be known about the mission and target so as to give them a chance to glean additional intelligence beyond their initial target. This time, though, they had been barely told anything, though Haverson alone knew that it was because ONI didn't know too much about their target either. Haverson was content to let the crew think that he was holding out on them; it's always better to be thought of as a manipulative bastard than an incompetent. Still, what they already knew was frightening enough: they were to recon the very heart of the covenant empire. Aside from it being a heavily guarded mobile space station, almost nothing was known about it. _

"_Powering down all secondary systems. Switching into stealth mode." Gehlan announced before his own holotank flickered off. _

_All around the bridge, the machinery began to die down. The air felt colder and even the artificial gravity was lowered to a fourth of normal to lower power output. _

_A new map appeared on the main holotank, showing the X-405 System. It was a medium sized star system with a two inner rocky planets, an asteroid belt, a couple of distant gas giants, and a Kuiper Belt. From the star maps gleaned from the Truth and Reconciliation's database, there were covenant colonies on the rocky planets and some gas mines around the gas giant. Overall, it was an unremarkable system by any standards. But it was not what was there that is of interest; rather was going to be there that this whole mission had been initiated for. If the covenant announcements were right – and there was no reason to doubt them considering that they were sent before Red Flag was initiated – High Charity was to arrive for what amounted to an official visit in the X-405 system. _

"_Disengaging slipstream drive in 90 sec..."_

_Gehlan's announcements were interrupted as the entire ship began to shake violently, throwing a few crew members onto the floor as system monitors flared dozens of warnings. _

"_What the hell is going on, Gehlan?" Vasquez shouted. _

"_Unknown sir. All sensors are down and the Slipstream drive is experiencing a massive feedback loop and is overheating. Overload is imminent, but I am unable to give you an estimate."_

_Against the rough and tumble of the ship, Haverson dragged himself over to the captain. _

"_Captain, I believe that we should make the transition now. If we drop outside the system, the covenant should not be able to find us. They have no reason to scout interstellar space." _

_The captain looked at Haverson incredulously. "That's a hell of a guess, lieutenant. If you're wrong, we're dead. But so are we if we stay here. Gehlan, take us back to normal space. Initiate emergency blowout now!"_

_The Dark Side of the Moon punched right through the 11 dimensional fabric and lurched into normal space. Immediately, the prowler opened its emergency exterior vents and poured vaporized coolant out into space. _

"_Report!" Captain Vasquez demanded. _

"_One moment, please captain. Rebooting systems now." Gehlan said. "Primary systems coming back on line now."_

* * *

"I've retrieved the sensor records from the _Dark Side_." Cortana said. "It appears that there was a massive spike in the Shaw coefficient of the local spacetime, nearly a dozen times the norm. The local slipstream eddies became outright whirlpools that almost ripped the prowler to pieces. The phenomena seems to surround the entire system."

"That can't be right. The entire system would be completely inviable for slipspace travel." Yang countered. "It would take a massive amount of gravitational stabilization to stabilize any slipspace event."

"Indeed." Cortana responded with a tone that implied that she knew something the colonel didn't. "It would take something with the mass of a large moon or a planetoid."

There was a look of epiphany between Yang and Keyes. "That's an ingenous defensive system, I'll give them that."

"Do we know if this is a natural or artificial phenomena?" Keyes inquired.

"It's artificial, sir. When High Charity finally departed, the slipspace disruption field went with it." Haverson continued. "We were able to jump without any problems. But that's getting ahead of ourselves. After we effected repairs, Captain Vasquez took the_ Dark Side _into the system. We found High Charity hovering around the second planet. Cortana, show the captain and the colonel the telemetry we recovered."

The holographic projection morphed into a general scan of High Charity, including the swarms of covenant warships patrolling its perimeter.

"Seven hundred plus ships? Isn't that a little excessive?" Keyes morbidly remarked.

"Captain Vasquez and I agreed that High Charity was a lost cause." Haverson continued. "Just before we turned around to leave, though, something found us.

"Found you? How?" Keyes asked.

"I don't know, captain. But it wasn't the Covenant."

* * *

"_Turn us around. Get us out of the system's heliosphere and prepare for..." _

"_Captain, we are receiving a transmission on a narrow band." _

"_What?" Haverson exclaimed. "How the hell did the covenant find us? _

"_It doesn't look like it's the covenant, son." The captain interjected as he reviewed the transmission. "It's not a general transmission; someone is aiming this at us. It doesn't have the normal covenant comm protocols or data packets. Hell, it's just a numeric sequence."_

_The ONI agent raised his eyebrow in confusion. "They're pinging us?" _

"_It would seem that way, lieutenant." Gehlan responded. _

* * *

"What was the sequence?" Yang asked.

"It was a series of prime numbers." Cortana offered. "The sequence repeated itself over for a few times before it disappeared."

The colonel seemed impressed and amused at the same time. "Well, this brings me back. As I recall, prime number sequences are considered as a sign of intelligence as they don't occur in nature. Sounds like someone wanted to get your attention without alerting the covenant. But what the hell does it mean?"

"Our AI Gehlan noticed that the sequence transcribed nicely onto a map of the star system if one used the first planet and the system's sun as the points of reference. It also contained a set of coordinates out just beyond the second planet. Captain Vasquez decided to follow the lead."

* * *

_The Dark Side slow glided towards the coordinates. Fortunately, it was still some distance from the covenant perimeter. While they had to dodge more than a few seraph patrols, nobody was out actively looking for them. _

"_Anything, Gehlan?" Haverson inquired. _

"_I don't understand." the AI replied. "We have received another narrow band transmission, a fairly large data packet but nearly all of it is complete gibberish."_

"_Nearly all?" Captain Vasquez asked._

"_Well, yes. I was able to make out two things from the transmission. There's another set of coordinates about a million kilometers from our current position and a short plain text message in covenant script: _

_'Trust me.'_

* * *

"We went to the next set of coordinates and received another similar data packet with more short messages the likes of 'just a few more' and 'have patience'."

On his PADD, colonel performed a few calculations on the the transmission packets. "And a triaxial permutation there and... ah, I see what this person was trying to do."

Captain Keyes, however, was left out of the secret. "Am I missing something here, ladies and gentlemen?"

"The data packets were meaningless by themselves, but they mathematically fit together like a jigsaw puzzle." Cortana explained. "The transmissions were deliberately kept short and used a prime number cipher to, combined with the parted packets, make it seem like junk data or a mangled run of the mill broadcast to anyone who didn't know what they were looking for."

The captain nodded in appreciation before allowing Lt. Haverson to continue.

"We came to the same conclusion ourselves after the fourth transmission. Ultimately we had to go to seven different set of coordinates before the data packet was assembled. What you saw before was not the only thing we got out of it. There were also a very detailed layout of High Charity's interior with an objective point in the city center and other information like maps for covenant civilian crafts. There was also a final message:

'_My name is Medicant Bias and your victory shall be my redemption, reclaimer'_.

"Do we have any clue as to what that means or even who or what this person is?" Keyes asked.

"No, but it seems as if we have an invitation from that person to go find him and ask." Stanforth answered in rushed manner as compared to his usually calm demeanor. There was a look on his face that was obvious to all present that this whole thing was becoming personal. To their surprise though, Yang's expression seem to harden as oppose to his usually benevolent demeanor.

The change in the colonel didn't escape Admiral Stanforth. "In any case, there's still far too much information to sift for now through. We will continue as planned until further notice. Except for the Colonel, you're all dismissed."

The others quickly filed out, not wanting to be involved with tension of the top brass tier.

When the entrance closed shut, the atmosphere between the two men changed instantly. There was no longer that air of subordinate respect and deference the Colonel previously showed to the Admiral. Instead, Yang looked as if he was the superior between the two. Stanforth was reminded who he was really dealing with. That veneer of a benign and respectful colonel hid a man that even Admiral Margret Parangorsky couldn't challenge.

Yang spoke up first, his tone serious almost to the point of intimidating. "You're going after Cole."

"You'd rather we didn't?" The admiral all but accused.

"Maybe. Maybe not. I will admit that there is no better place than High Charity to deploy Minutiae. However, let's be realistic. That fleet surrounding High Charity is enough to take on the entire combined fleet with confidence! But that's not even the real issue. Now I have to ask: am I speaking to a UNDF admiral or the father of Peter Volkov?"

The admiral's jaws visibly clenched. "I'm going to pretend that you didn't just question my fitness for command. But some of us aren't the second coming of Josef Stalin. Cole is the best fleet commander we've ever had. And bottom line, he deserves to be rescued."

Yang leaned slightly forward onto the table, his attitude a mixture of calm and amusement. "Deserves? This pretty rich from the person that signed off on the Spartan Project. This is your operation, admiral, but it will be **my** Spartans that would be committed on the ground. A rescue would be at least one more ball in this juggling act. It'll stretch the ground component out even thinner. If we are indeed doing this, it will be for the right reasons, not to assuage your guilty conscience. I need to know that you still have your objectives straight."

The admiral looked to the holographic projection of High Charity once more. "A star system spanning slipspace disruption field, seven hundred warships, and god knows how many ground troops."

Stanforth stood up and walked to Yang's side. "We can do it, colonel. I know we can."

After a moment, Yang gave a gentle nod. "Alright, we'll get Cole out of there."

The admiral gave his much younger subordinate a squeeze on the shoulders. "Now we have to plan for this. Lt. Haverson and Cortana will need help to sift through the intel. We need to know more before we make a move. "

"And what we have now won't be enough." Yang concluded. "We'll need a lot more ships and I have no idea how to get them here on time."

"Not just more ships, but more boots on the ground." The Admiral added. "It'll have to be an open fight now. The ground force will have to go loud to bust the camp while still going after the prophets. There's no way that the Spartans and the Helljumpers will be enough."

The Admiral spent the next few moments in thought before looking at Yang again. "What about Mendez and his boys?"

The Colonel looked incredulously at Stanforth. "You can't be serious! We can't get them here on time."

"As I recall, Colonel, Doctor Halsey reported that the alien crystal you and her found under Menachite Mountain had certain slipspace bending properties that we could use."

Yang's eyebrows rose at that suggestion. "No! Definitely not! The doctor and I have already tested prototype containment vessel and it's not enough to hold back the radiation."

"Well, find a solution, Colonel. It's all on you now."


	20. Chapter 20

**Disclaimer: I can't believe that this still has to be said, but Halo is all Bungie's. Any attempts to sue the author will net you at most one of my doomsday devices (Go ahead and take, I have more!).**

* * *

**0800 Hours, October 31****st****, 2552 (Military Calendar) / narrow-band point-to-point transmission: origin UNKNOWN; termination: Section Zero, Zeta secured antenna array, UNDF HQ Item Eridani System, Reach Military Complex  
PLNB **_**Priority **_**Transmission XX092B-XX  
Encryption Code: THETA  
Public Key:** N/A**  
From:**CODENAME: _Simplicio_**  
To:**CODENAME: _Salviati_**  
Subject:** PROGRESS REPORT/OPERATION_ Red Flag_**  
Classification: **EYES ONLY TOP SECRET (SECTION 0, Zeta Directive)

/file extraction-reconstitution complete/

/start file/

We've encountered two significant anomalies on the operation. The attached files contain references to an unknown individual who identifies itself as Medicant Bias. This person has facilitated some reasonably feasible means to meet him or her in the heart of High Charity for reasons unknown. This Bias fellow transmitted video footage that confirms that Preston Cole is still alive and in covenant captivity. Also present in the footage is Lyrenne Callista. This seems to confirm CODENAME: COALMINER's theories regarding Cole. As expected, Stanforth is likely to go after Cole. Yang believes that this newly expanded endeavor is possible, though major reinforcements will be necessary for the expanded operation. Project Hour Glass will have to be accelerated, though Yang has proposed an effective, if inelegant, solution to its current radiation problems.

/end file/

/scrambledestruction

process enabled/

Press **ENTER **to continue.

* * *

**0810 Hours, October 31****st****, 2552 (Military Calendar) / narrow-band point-to-point transmission: origin UNKNOWN; termination: Section Zero, Zeta secured antenna array, UNDF HQ Item Eridani System, Reach Military Complex  
PLNB **_**Priority **_**Transmission XX092K-XX  
Encryption Code: THETA  
Public Key:** N/A**  
From:** CODENAME: _Salviati_**  
To: **CODENAME: _Simplicio_**  
Subject:**RESPONSE TO REPORT ON OPERATION _RED FLAG_**  
Attachment:** Loyal Opposition-7**  
Classification: **EYES ONLY TOP SECRET (SECTION 0, Zeta Directive)

/file extraction-reconstitution complete/

/start file/

The committee supports my stand in that these new developments may work to our long range objectives. If we can indeed retrieve Cole, he may prove to be the Rommel that we need. I would think that Hood would be at least somewhat hesitant to mount a rescue attempt, but he won't countermand Stanforth while he's in the field. In the mean time, the matters at hand now requires a more active role from us. Help Halsey implement Project Hour Glass and go with the fleet to the rendezvous point. Yang will need your expertise to succeed, though we must not give away our real presence and intent. Our first priority must remain ensuring that Yang achieves his goals even at the expense of all other Red Flag objectives.

Two final notes. I've finished the next edition of _Loyal Opposition_. Might as well take them with you. Use the R7 Trojan to distribute it; that should give Yang and his AIs a run for his money. Finally, do try to keep your hands to yourself on this one. Your antics will only draw unnecessary attention to us all.

/end file/

/scrambledestruction

process enabled/

Press **ENTER **to continue.


	21. Chapter 21

**Disclaimer: I can't believe that this still has to be said, but Halo is all Bungie's (or 343 Industries or whoever it is now). Any attempts to sue the author will net you at most one of my doomsday devices (Go ahead and take one, I have more!).**

* * *

A/N: I know that this isn't the length of a chapter that most people would want, but I have to say this: graduate level classes are hard, especially if you have to do student observations. Therefore, I've decided once again that shorter is better, if only to be able to post something at all. Sorry to those that want longer chapters. And just so there is no confusion, I've named the Tribal class destroyer as the primary line of UNSC destroyers seen in canon.

* * *

_"I'm here to command the 7th Marine Regimental Combat Team." - Colonel Franklin Mendez._**  
**

* * *

**0400 Hours, October 31****st****, 2552 (Military Calendar) / in orbit of Reach, Epsilon Eridani System, Reach Military Complex**

"Commander Keyes, we're ninety seconds away from touchdown."

"Roger that, Lieutenant. I'm coming up right now." Miranda strode into the pelican's cockpit and looked outside the window.

There she was, her newest command: the Hussar class destroyer UNS _Lancer_. Miranda grew confused. The ship looked like nothing else in the UNDF fleet. It was huge for its size, almost a half again bigger and at least a third longer than a Tribal class destroyer. The armor was incredibly thick, probably around three meters. Two massive, indeed almost outsized, thrusters gave the ship an instinctive declaration of raw speed and power. Weapon mounts were recessed so deep within armor that they were protected from everything except for a direct impact.

This was not how Miranda had expected her week to begin. Just a couple of days ago, the _In Amber Clad_ had received a message from Admiral Freemont, ordering all the captains of the Principle Interstellar Combatant Program to report to their ships for immediate deployment. No additional information was given. As Miranda had only volunteered for the project a mere week ago, the frigate ended its patrol and reported back to Reach to depart her captain. HighCom had told her nothing beyond that her reputation as a competent and aggressive captain made her a prime candidate for a new line of ships for the fleet.

On the other side of the view port, another equally shocking, if not as catching, sight drew Miranda's attention. The _Leviathan_, one of the massive Marathon class cruiser, was in formation with a very large assembly of warships. Miranda estimated at least seventy to eighty warships of all classes. But the _Leviathan_ herself drew the greatest attention. The cruiser still bore the scars of multiple plasma torpedo impacts on her exterior hull. It was obvious that the technicians had started repairs but broke off before they were all finished. Even more unsightly, though, was the sheer amount of armor plating and radiation shielding that had been haphazardly slapped onto the cruiser's hull. The _Leviathan_ didn't even looked like a warship anymore so much as a floating blob of armor and radiation shielding.

The pelican approached to one of only two landing bays on the Lancer. After gently touching down, the transport descended into the main hangar bay. It was almost as small as the one back on the _In Amber Clad_. All around the bay, deck plates and wiring were exposed everywhere as the technicians frantically rushed to get everything into working order.

Something big was definitely going on.

The elevator finally settled and the rear hatch opened. Miranda took her duffel bag over her shoulders and went down the ramp. Someone was there to greet her.

"Hello, Miranda."

It was **her**!

Of all the people that could have greeted her on this ship, it had to be her. Doctor Catherine Halsey stood before Miranda in her in a white lab coat and a skirt. The elder women had a ghost of a smile on her lips in marked contrast to those same cobalt blue eyes that always seemed to know something that Miranda didn't.

Miranda fought down a scowl. Of all the time to see her, it had to be now. It had been more than a decade since the two had any contact and Miranda would have been perfectly content for things to remain that way for several more.

"How did you get in here?" Miranda uttered, attempting to keep her tone as impersonal as possible.

"I'm the assistant director of ONI Section III, Miranda. I was one of the lead designers of the Hussar class. I can get on board almost any ship in the fleet without any trouble."

"That's Commander **Keyes**, doctor." Miranda responded, emphasizing her chosen surname. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have a ship to break in."

As Miranda walked past Halsey, the doctor grabbed her shoulders. "Don't you walk away from me, Miranda!"

Miranda shrugged off Halsey's hand and made for the elevator. The doctor gave chase, slipping right past the closing doors and hitting the emergency stop. Annoyed, Miranda moved to step out through the partially opened doors only for the doctor stand right in her way.

"Damn it, Miranda. I am your mother. Will you just for once listen to me?"

"I have far better things to do with my time, **Mother**." The commander spat. "No, I take that back. I have no mother. I'm not your daughter. You've made that very clear twenty years ago! I have nothing to say or to hear from you."

The doctor stood firm against her daughter's attempt to shove her aside. Miranda's jaws clenched so tight that Catherine swore that she could hear her daughter's teeth grind. It was like this every time between the two of them, though Catherine acknowledge that it was entirely her fault. From the very day that Halsey gave Miranda away to her father, she knew that her daughter would never forgive her. The desperate pleas from Miranda for her mother as her father took her away left a wound that festers to this day. But considering the circumstances, Catherine would do the exact same thing again if she had to.

"Thirty seconds." Halsey offered desperately. "Just give me thirty seconds and I'll be on my way."

Miranda backed off slightly. "Fine. Thirty seconds. A moment more and I'll have the marines throw you off of my ship."

The doctor nodded and reached into her lab coat's massive pockets, producing an AI crystal.

"An AI?" Miranda scoffed in a mixture of surprise and anger. "You came all this way to give me an AI?"

"Not just any AI." Catherine responded. "Her name is Kalmiya. She is a Class-III smart AI and she's based off of me. There's only one other AI like her in the entire UNDF; aside from her sister Cortana, no other AI can even come close."

Miranda took the crystal matrix from her mother's hand. Catherine gently gripped her daughter's hand, knowing that this could very well be the last time she would see Miranda. "I had to pull some strings to have FLEETCOM allow me to give her to you. I know that this doesn't even begin to make things up, but please don't hesitate to use Kalmiya. I know everything about your upcoming mission and you will need every edge to make it back alive."

Miranda pulled her hand loose. "Your thirty seconds are up."

Catherine nodded weakly and opened the door. As the doors closed behind her, the doctor turned around. "Tell your father I said hello."

* * *

**0700 Hours, November 4th, 2552 (Military Calendar) / UNS **_**Pillar of Autumn**_**, Battle Group Stanforth, Interstellar Space, Sector 209. **

"Captain, the slipspace probes are reporting a massive gravimetric disruption coming straight at us." Lieutenant Hall declared from her sensor station. Colonel Yang and Captain Keyes turned to attention.

"How big?" The captain asked.

After a few moments of examining the probe readings, Hall responded. "I.. don't know, sir. I can't make heads or tails of these readings. Whatever it is, it's barreling towards us faster than anything I've ever seen. It went from the ten arcs out to just three since I've spotted it."

At that point, Colonel Yang spoke up. "That should be them. Call the admiral up. Is the battlegroup in formation?"

Keyes simply nodded.

"Then pass the message around. Every ships is to raise their shields to full power. Have the carriers confirm their lock down."

"Already done." Cortana interjected as her avatar flared to life beside them. "All ships confirm ready for radiation hazard."

Just as Cortana finished, a massive slipspace event ripped into existence about a million kilometers away from the battlegroup. A single massive ship screamed out of the interdimensional foam before going adrift, all signs of activity absent from its hull. More than a few parts of the hulk was glowing red hot.

"Radiation alarm! That thing is spewing out more rads than a brown dwarf." Hall warned.

"What the hell is it?" Keyes shouted.

"That is the _Leviathan_." A voice from the bridge entrance said., Admiral Stanforth coming to stand beside Keyes and Yang. "Or what's left of her that is, I can barely believe that it actually worked. Looks like she came through well enough."

"And don't worry, there's no one on it. Just let it drift away from us for now." Yang added.

The massive slipstream event behind the Leviathan spewed out even more UNDF ships of all sorts, each venting vaporized coolant as they came to a stop.

"I'm reading exactly one hundred and ninety three UNDFSC warships out there." Cortana announced. "From the transponders, it seems like Admiral Hood pulled more than a few ships from every fleet in range in addition to over half the Reach defense fleet."

"Cortana, tell the fleet that I'm assuming command." Stanforth ordered. "I want all ships in formation and prepared to move out as soon as repairs are complete."

"Aye, sir. Plotting formation now." Cortana acknowledged.

"Admiral, I suggest calling a conference as soon as possible." Yang advised. "We'll need Colonel Mendez's help in planning the ground ops."

The admiral nodded. "Make it so, Cortana."

* * *

"So who am I suppose to meet?" John asked as the elevator slowed.

"That's a surprise." Cortana responded through the armor's com. "Trust me. You'll be happy to see him."

The commander inwardly groaned. "Cortana, I think that I've had more than my fair share of surprises for this mission."

The elevator doors opened to reveal the number two hangar. "Just take a look for yourself."

The commander stepped out. At the center of the bay, a pelican on a deck elevator descended down to the floor. The rear hatch opened and the passengers exited the blood tray. Of the dozen or so departing Marines, though, one leatherneck, a colonel, seized John's attention. He knew this man, though it has been a quarter of a century since they've last met.

Colonel Franklin Mendez spotted the lone Spartan standing at attention some dozen meters in front of him. The Colonel's appearance was picturesque, clean and shaved with nary a strand of his uniform out of position with only a duffel bag in hand. What was left of his black hair had turned gray, a physical reminder of Mendez's age. Despite that, though, John somehow felt that even with the age disparity and the augmentation and armor that Mendez could still ultimately put him under on the mats.

"I'll let you two get reacquainted." Cortana said before she closed the com channel.

The two soldiers exchanged a long salute. It has been far too long.

"Commander." Mendez said with a slight curl on his lips as he offered his hand.

John slowly, almost timidly, accepted his former mentor's proffered hand. "Colonel."

"It's been a long time, hasn't it?"

"Yes, sir."

Mendez took another good look at the Spartan's armor. "Hm. Gunmetal black. It looks good on you. Maybe we should have done that the first time instead of green."

The Spartan fidgeted ever so slightly, though it was obvious that Mendez's sharp eyes had picked up on it.

"Thank you, sir. It's... good to see you again. If you don't mind my asking, sir, what are you doing here? And..." The commander took another long look at Mendez's uniform. "...why are you a marine?"

"Ah, yes." Mendez tucked his jacket. "That part is a long story. As for why I'm here, I thought that it should obvious by now, commander." Mendez offered as he slung his duffel bag over his shoulder. Behind the two soldiers, the hangar lifts received another inbound flight. This time, two massive 200mm helical rail field artillery pieces and their crews arrived on deck.

"I'm here to command the 7th Marine Regimental Combat Team."


	22. Chapter 22

**Disclaimer: I can't believe that this still has to be said, but Halo is all Bungie's (or 343 Industries or whoever it is now). Any attempts to sue the author will net you at most one of my doomsday devices (Go ahead and take one, I have more!).**

A/N: Here's a short one, basically something that I wanted to pump out before finals season butchers what little time I have. But before I get to this short update, I have a couple of open questions. I've come across a bit of a good news/bad news scenario for myself. Due to a series of disasters in my graduate studies, I've had to withdraw from the two classes that sucked up most of my time. As a result, I can write more often now.

So I present to you readers a choice about the pace of updates before the final phase of the Red Flag campaign begins: one uber update that will take a good long while or maybe two to four smaller but faster updates ?

And the second question is over some details for later development. As a matter of psychological shock effects, which do you think is more frightening: a quad cannon or a Gatling cannon?

And final note, Tikigod's editing skills were here.

* * *

"_The way that a wise general achieves greatness beyond ordinary men is through foreknowledge." - Sun Tzu, the Art of War._

* * *

**2300 Hours, October 25th, 2552 (Military Calendar) / Briefing Room, UNS **_**Pillar of Autumn**_**, Battle Group Stanforth, Interstellar Space, Sector 197. **

Colonel Yang took another good look at his wrist com before shaking his head.

"She's late." Yang muttered to Admiral Standforth.

Before the admiral could answer, the entrance opened to admit Colonel Mendez and Commander-117. Standforth turned to Cortana's avatar.

"Cortana?"

The AI shrugged. "Let's just say that she's taking her sweet time to get here. That's all I'm going to say about that."

"I should have known. That woman can't keep her hands to herself." Yang picked up. "Well, everybody else is here. No sense waiting any longer."

"Everyone, please take a seat." Admiral Stanforth opened. As requested, everyone within the briefing room took to their chairs around the table. Assembled were all the key commanders of the entire operation. Representing the ground ops was Colonel Franklin Mendez, Major Antonio de Silva, and Spartan-117. For the fleet, Admiral Stanforth himself was accompanied by Captain Keyes and the dozen other flag officers of the fleet. Representing ONI were Cortana's holographic avatar, Colonel Yang, and Lt. Haverson.

"To those of you that have just arrived, let me offer my apologies for the short notice." The admiral continued. "I realize that your presence here could be courting disaster, stretching out our lines even thinner that it stands now. But we have ample reason to believe that we have stumbled into a strategic opportunity of a lifetime, one that could turn this war around for us. HighCom has already passed to some of the critical intelligence on Operation Red Flag, but not everything was in those files. Please, take a few minutes to examine the files in front of you to get up to speed."

After a few minutes, several of the newly arrived captains bore looks of absolute incredulity on their faces.

"Yes. We're not completely sure how, but Admiral Cole is still alive and is in the hands of the covenant. I'll let Lt. Haverson give you the operational intel on our current mission."

As prompted, the ONI lieutenant took over the briefing. The lights dimmed slightly as the holotank displayed the video of the prisoners in High Charity.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, here is what we know so far." Haverson began. "This whole thing seems to be a first for the covenant; we have no evidence that there are any preceding prisoners before. Based on chatter picked up by the _Dark Side of the Moon_ and from other sources, we know that the prisoners are recent arrivals, perhaps as early as a couple weeks ago. From the footage, we estimate that there are anywhere from ninety to a hundred and twenty prisoners. We do not know how or from where they were captured. Again, based on intercepts, we have learned that the reason for the presence of the prisoners are ceremonial. The anniversary of the founding of the covenant is coming up in roughly seven days from now. The prisoners are to be publicly tortured and executed for the procession."

The holographic image changing into a map of an unknown binary star system consisting of a class-F star along with a sub-dwarf companion. It had six planets with four rocky planetoids and two gas giants. Most of the planets were unremarkable rocky worlds with some sizable colonies, but the third and fourth worlds easily drew the most attention. Two gas giants formed a mini binary planetary system within a binary star system. One was a hot Jupiter gas giant that had violent storms all over its atmosphere. Its partner, though, was even more unique. Tidally locked into the shadow of its hotter twin was a hot Saturn type gas giant, a fairly rare type of planets that resulted from a perfect blend of mass and heat that makes the planet look like a spherical puff of yellow smoke as the atmosphere hovers on the edge of boiling away. Their odd state of being often left people jokingly referring to them as "puffy" giants. Several moons actually share share figure 8 style orbits between the two gas giant that actually takes them into the hot Saturn's massive atmosphere.

"This is the X-3279 system which is currently about five thousand six hundred light years from our current position. High Charity is scheduled to appear here on an official visit for several days before the day of founding."

"Whatever it is that we'll have planned," Captain Keyes interjected. "this will be our operational window. We can't get through the slipspace disruption field and we can't fight our way in. Therefore, the only way is to get there first and wait for High Charity to show up."

"The ground element is the main focus of the operation and the fleet is here as a supporting role." The admiral continued. "At the moment, our objectives are as such: secure a prophet, rescue the prisoners, disable the slipspace disruption, meet our contact within High Charity, and extract the ground element. The fleet will jump in and hide inside the hot Saturn's atmosphere until called for and shall engage only if necessary. Do we have any questions so far?"

A hand shot up. It was the Captain Gorchakov of the _Embers of Summer_, one of the _Autumn's_ upgraded sister ships. "Do we know if the covenant had deliberately targeted Cole?"

"That would be a no." Haverson replied. "All evidence points to the covenant not knowing, or even caring, who it is that they have in their hands."

Another flag officer, this time Captain Al-Jinnah from the supercarrier _Trafalgar_, presented a question. "How will we get into the system without being detected?"

The admiral turned to Colonel Yang. But before the ONI colonel could begin, the door opened to admit another newcomer. More than a few gazes lingered on the curvacious brunette dressed in a scandalously red shirtdress as she sauntered up to the front of the room. Before speaking to Yang, the woman turned to the crowd of captains and admirals, the males in particular of who some were still taking in her perfect figure, and flashed a platinum smile.

"It seems like you boys have me outnumbered." The woman teased with an English accent as smooth as silk.

"You're late, Marilyn." Yang quietly scolded.

"My apologies, Colonel. I was …. indisposed for the time." Marilyn replied with a wink before she leaned in closer to Yang. "But I'll be more than happy to make up for your troubles later tonight."

For a brief moment, Yang was torn between amusement and seriousness before the latter won over. "One of these days, I swear I'll teach you how to keep your hands to yourself."

"Well, I suppose all of us have to have that one aspiration that they'll never accomplish." Marilyn whimsically replied. "And mark my words, one of these day you'll take my offer and I will never let you live it down."

Yang turned back to the crowd with an amused grin on his face. "To answer your question, Captain, Doctor Marilyn Thatcher here will take over. She is, possibly next to Doctor Halsey, ONI's foremost expert in slipspace physics and had just arrived with the fleet."

With fluid grace, Marilyn sat down on the table's edge with her legs crossed next to Yang. Then he noticed that Doctor Thatcher was discreetly looking him over, her eyes quite evidently showing that she was mentally undressing him. At the corner of his eyes, John caught Cortana's holographic avatar in an incredulous (for an AI) state of barely concealed shock with a hint of anger. "Alright boys and girls. It's quite simple how we'll get all of you there: we'll jump straight in."

Marilyn focused the holographic display on the binary gas giants. "If any of you recall, everyone assumed that Admiral Cole went down with his ship, the _Everest_, at Virperidae. However, the fortunate change in his status from presumed dead to most certainly living has the added benefit of proving one of my longstanding theories correct: that slipspace events can be opened near a significant gravity well. All that was needed was better sensor data on the saturated quantum filaments and a more precise rip in space-time than our current brute force approach. Fortunately, your mission thus far have already provided me with both in that covenant battlecruiser that you've captured. Some modifications to each ship's drives will have to be made, but there is absolutely no reason why we can't jump you straight into the atmosphere of that giant space marshmallow, especially since the best place to land the exit event, the L1 Lagrange point, is within the atmosphere. In fact, if my calculations are correct – of which I am certain they are – once me and the Colonel are done, the transition error of our jumps should be slim to nil."

"Well, if you call forty or fifty kilometers slim." Cortana interjected. "I just checked out your calculations and they are accurate. But while it's a huge improvement against several thousand kilometers, an error of probability the size of a large city is not slim to nil."

Marilyn shifted her steely gaze to Cortana's avatar, who simply folded her ghostly arms and returned the favor. Underneath the only set of Mjolnir armor in the room, John finally understood why Doctor Halsey muttered 'not again' underneath her breath during his new armor orientation.

"I see that you don't understand the concept of practical generalities. But I suppose that I can't blame you. You're just an AI, after all."

"Just an AI!" Cortana seethed.

But before a single volley more could be exchanged, Admiral Standforth wisely intervened to continue the briefing. "Now, after we jump into the hot Saturn's atmosphere, the fleet will loiter until called for. Are there any additional questions about the starside operation?"

No hands were raised.

"Good. Now that Colonel Mendez is here, I expect the ground commanders to have a plan ready by 0900 hours tomorrow. In the mean time, Colonel Yang and Doctor Thatcher will see to the fleet's modifications; coordinate with them to get this done ASAP. Dismissed!"

As the briefing room's occupants filed out, Colonel Yang spoke up once more.

"Commander-117."

John turned to see Yang and Doctor Thatcher standing next to the exit with Cortana still on the side.

"Yes, sir."

"I need to talk to you and Colonel Mendez tomorrow about your mission, say 0700 hours?"

John nodded. "That will be fine, sir."

"Excellent! Now if you'll excuse me, I'll have to see if I can actually save the _Leviathan_ and to get started on those modifications."

Before John could salute, though, Doctor Thatcher moved in towards John. The gorgeous brunette closed to mere inches in front of the Spartan's visor, giving him a perfect view of her lovely green eyes.

"But before that, maybe you can show me what you have underneath all that armor." Marilyn whispered, her sultrous tone saying far more than her words. "And maybe I'll return the favor."

With that invitation, Marilyn departed, grinning like the cat that just ate the canary. In her wake, the brunette temptress left behind an enraged AI, an explosively laughing ONI colonel, and a very confused Spartan.


	23. Chapter 23

**Disclaimer: I can't believe that this still has to be said, but Halo is all 343 Industry's. Any attempts to sue the author will net you at most one of my doomsday devices (Go ahead and take one, I have more!)**

**A/N: Advance apologies to the A-Team. You'll see!**

* * *

"_So let me get this straight. You, commander, want us Spearheads to troll the Covenant?" - Steven-666._

* * *

**0630 Hours, November 5th, 2552 (Military Calendar) / UNS **_**Pillar of Autumn**_**, Battle Group Stanforth, Interstellar Space, Sector 209. **

For now, it was just the two of them in the briefing room, alone with the holotank displaying what they had for the coming battle. The Spartan had his helmet off to enjoy a fairly large pitcher of coffee that was being shared with Colonel Mendez as the two plotted the night away. The coffee was most definitely necessary, though not for staying awake. No, the coffee was a liquid reprieve from the superhuman difficulty of plotting a groundside raid on a Covenant space station one fourth the size of the Earth's moon that was protected by over seven hundred ships and, for all intents and purposes, an inexhaustible number of fanatical Covenant warriors with the home turf advantage. The holographic maps painfully displayed the difficulty of their task.

The holy city within High Charity where the fighting will inevitably take place was nearly a hundred square kilometers of urban sprawl with nearly a hundred levels of passageways and corridors of drastically varying sizes. A central network of gravity lifts with hundreds of secondaries and tertiary backups made the city infinitely more accessible than human cities, a huge advantage in quick mobilization for the defenders. There were at least three main objectives that had to be hit simultaneously lest they lose the element of surprise: the prison facility, the Sanctum of the Prophets, and that mysterious and massive starship at the center of the city where that Medicant Bias character was waiting for them; the latter was also the place where ONI surmised that the slipspace disruption field was being generated. The Sanctum and the ship were laid out similarly, if in different size, essentially on a plateau standing above the surrounding sprawl. The problem was that they were separated from each other by at least an average of twenty kilometers and heavily defended with surrounding wide open spaces and countless security checkpoints for their security details.

Suffice it to say, their problem wasn't about getting in, it was about getting out. The two soldiers have already came with a means of infiltrating the Spartans in. But, taking one more look at the layout of the Sanctum of the Prophets, John was certain that the Spartan teams will be quickly pinned down and isolated from each other. Worse still was that the 2100 strong 7th Marines and ODSTs would not contribute that much for once the ground component reaches a critical size, the Covenant would most likely lay waste to the entire areas to get them. That is of course assuming that they could even smuggle the marines into High Charity in the first place. Sneaking in a platoon sized force was one thing. An entire regiment was another.

As John continued to strain his mind over the issue, Colonel Mendez stood up and deactivated the holographic display.

"Sir?" The commander questioned.

"We need a break." Mendez offered as the lights brightened from its previous dim. The colonel nodded towards the door. "Walk with me, commander."

The Spartan complied and the two left the briefing room for the corridors.

"If I may ask, sir, where are we going?" John asked.

"Nowhere in particular. We just need a few minutes away from that to clear our minds. We won't get anywhere with our current line of attack."

For a few minutes, the two strolled the ship's corridors at a leisurely pace. As it was the graveyard shift, they didn't encounter too many people. There was a comfortable silence between them. The former teacher and the former student were both content to simply enjoy the others' presence. But of course, this couldn't last. Far too much time has passed since the last the two had seen each other. Still, if John was honest, he was slightly unnerved. Yes, he was still technically of a lower rank than the now Colonel Mendez, but now they were both commissioned officers, complete with a somewhat more informal code of conduct. More than that, though, it was rather Mendez's stance on the whole affair. The colonel was his clear superior, but he regarded John more as an equal. That was something that John was unaccustomed with.

A small smile graced Mendez's lips. "How does the new billet feel?"

How does it feel? John couldn't answer that question as he had not spent a moment's worth of thought on the subject. In all honesty, he had been running on autopilot in regards to his new rank, acting as he would in assuming a temporary battlefield commission.

While the answer was not forthcoming, it was obvious that Mendez knew from the slight twitch on John's shoulder that the Spartan simply didn't know how to respond. "Don't worry. You'll grow into it. It's hard to transit into commissioned, especially by so many ranks. Besides, from the time that Doctor Halsey picked you to be CO, you were ultimately destined to become commander."

Well, that was new. John had never thought that his progression in ranks had been plotted out ahead of time. That thought reminded him that he was filled with questions that he had been meaning to ask Mendez since the Colonel came aboard.

Mendez suddenly realized what he had given his former student. "Well, I suppose that now is as good as any time for twenty questions. Where do you want me to start?"

By chance, the two arrived at the starboard observation deck, the same place where he had approached Linda for advice on the Spearhead debacle. The Spartan found himself standing in the same spot as before as the two soldiers looked out the window, though this time there was an entire fleet of UNSC ships outside.

"What happened to you since the last time we met, sir?"

Mendez sighed as he prepared his response. The colonel did not want to broach the subject, though he would for his former pupil.

"Do you remember what I said that day on the _Atlas_?"

John recalled that conversation with crystal clarity. He had asked if the fact that only half the Spartans survived the augmentation combat capable was due to any failings on his part, a question that he still sometime pondered despite now knowing that it was out of his hands.

"Yes, sir. You said that it was acceptable to spend lives towards the missions if necessary."

"...but it is not acceptable, however, to waste those lives." Mendez finished before turning towards John. "What do you know about the Spartan-III program?"

"I read the reports from Colonel Yang's archives. I knew that you were the primary trainer just as you had been with us."

"The important things were in there, but not everything. That report basically left me out of mention."

John nodded. The Spartan had noticed that glaring omission during Cortana's exposé.

"That was..." Mendez pondered for a moment. "... an act of courtesy on the part of Colonel Yang."

"You were dismissed?" John concluded with shock.

Mendez shook his head. "No, John. I resigned."

That took a few moments to sink in. The man that had taught him to persevere and carry through with every assignment had just told him that he had quit his duty.

"We of all people should know what it's like to send someone to certain death. But there is a difference between a last stand or a suicide mission and what amounted to turning them into kamikaze soldiers. That's what the real difference between you and the IIIs were. You had value beyond the capacity to fulfill some odd objectives. We gave you the two things that make a true soldier: the ability and the chance to both triumph and to survive...But not the IIIs. At least not the way that Ackerson wanted them to be."

Mendez looked drained, his voice falling to a somber tone.

"You don't know what it's like to train and mold someone fully knowing that they were, for all intents and purposes, already dead. I watched the feed on the Prometheus raid, saw them those soldiers...those children get slaughtered one by one. And they were younger than you ever were, both mentally and physically."

"And for **WHAT?**!" Mendez growled. "A single shipyard or fuel depot wasn't going to make a damn's worth of difference in the grand scheme of things. It was just an... inconvenience on the Covenant. The lives of three hundred kids thrown away just to annoy them."

"So you resigned after the first battalion?" John probed.

"No." Mendez replied. "I still don't really know why, but I stayed on to train Beta Company. Maybe I thought that Ackerson was a smart enough man to make changes to the program, or maybe it was just a sense of duty, but I stayed. When Ackerson announced that raid on Pegasi Delta..."

Mendez stopped for a few moments to collect himself before he continued. "...that was it. I knew that it just wasn't going to stop. I just couldn't do it anymore."

The colonel looked into John's visor as if he was looking down the Spartan's eyes. "I taught you that sometimes, sacrifices have to be made, but only for damn good reasons and if there were no other choices. Yes, it was a crime to take you from your family to turn you into a supersoldier and I will burn in hell for it. But at least you had a decent chance to survive. What Ackerson did and refusing to change course or accept responsibility was inexcusable. And he kept wanting to try again. A good soldier could not permit himself to be a part of that any longer. That's why I left."

"When Yang had the Spartan-III program closed, he offered me the chance to come back and run the program as I saw fit. But I couldn't do that either. Just too many memories, too many faces to forget. I stayed on for a while longer to make sure that the new trainers were settling in before I finally left the program."

"So whose training the IVs?" The commander asked.

"There were a few survivors from both companies of the IIIs. They took over as the trainers. Colonel Yang offered to put me back into action in the Marines as a lieutenant. I took his offer and five years later I made Colonel with my own regiment."

John could only nod in response. Mendez had explained a lot of things to him. Now he knew why the IVs weren't trained as the IIs were; they had different instructors even if those instructors had been taught by Mendez. Another part of his mind also noted with relief that he finally got an acceptable answer on how the Spearheads got Mendez's approval for deployment:

They didn't.

"There are times I wonder keeping them on is the right choice. They deserved the right to leave the program behind more than I ever did. But perhaps its for the best. Who better to train Spartans than other Spartans?"

"Not necessarily so, sir." John replied. "Have you heard of Spearhead team?"

Mendez simply chuckled. "Yes, those lunatics. I've heard about them. They're not soldiers, but you definitely want them on your side. I've also heard about what they did to you during these few weeks."

John couldn't help but feel a sense of embarrassment. Granted, Wa was almost an unstoppable juggernaut, but ultimately the commander had nonetheless lost that fight. That was something that his pride was still nursing.

"Sir, I'm... relieved that it wasn't you that trained them."

"It was probably Serena that did that." Mendez responded, still mildly amused. "That girl is as crazy as they are, a bloody megalomaniac."

"Serena, sir?" John asked with some hesitation. Was there another Spartan out there like **them**?

"One of the Spartan-III candidates that should have washed out after we noticed some... mental defects that didn't show up until midway through her training. But she was so bright a intellect that Ackerson, and later Yang, kept her on as a researcher. She actually contributed to the Mk V armor. Last I checked, she was running the training regimes for medical and science."

"So this Serena is not on field duty?" John tentatively inquired.

"No, fortunately." Mendez replied. "Yang keeps her on Onyx. Even he wasn't willing to augment her."

Okay, so there is another lunatic Spearhead out there, the one that started it all. Still, John was relieved. As long as this Serena never get the augmentation, she's not his problem. Five Spearheads are bad enough as it is.

"So what about your current command, sir?" John asked. "I've heard some things about the 7th Marine Regiment to be an experimental formation."

"It was my idea, but Yang made it happen." Mendez answered. "The 7th Marines are the first of the Corps' Regimental Combat Teams, a regiment that has everything it needs to fight independently from other formations. The Marine brigade combat teams we're using right now is too big and cumbersome to fight the Covenant. Sure, they're a tough nut to crack once they're deployed, but landing eight thousand men and their equipment takes too long. That, plus the fact that having to deploy anything bigger than a regiment already means that it's a battle that will be decided in orbit rather than on the ground. Let the Army keep the big BCTs. The Marines have to be mobile enough to respond quickly and the regiment is the perfect size. Yang also decided to have the 7th be the first to be equipped with the best toys Section III have come up with. The newest artillery, IFVs, rifles, armor, everything."

"He could do that?" John asked. "I thought Colonel Yang was just a scientist and an administrator."

Mendez looked upon his former pupil as a teacher would once more.

"Sometimes I still think that you're still that young man I last saw on the _Atlas_, all wide eyed and eager to please. John, you Spartans are heroes of this war, the symbols who give hope to people. But the war against the Covenant is not the only war being fought right now. This war is being fought in the shadows. And just like you Spartans, there are...some very dangerous people who could decide who lives and who dies. Yang is one of those people, and he's probably the most dangerous one of them all."

The thought of Yang as some ONI operator was not something that came easy to John. The man had none of the attributes that makes a soldier. But there was always that air of power around the head of Section III and how he always seemed to know everything, something that John had previously chalked up to intellectual swagger.

"What makes him so dangerous?" The commander pressed.

"You know that it was Yang who took Ackerson down, right? That was a very impressive accomplishment on Yang's part. Ackerson was Admiral Parangorsky's heir-in-waiting. She had backed everything he did. That was why I decided to resign instead of fighting Ackerson; I knew it was useless."

John's mind finally processed the last piece of the puzzle on the IIIs. So it was political connection that allowed Ackerson to commit the crimes he did. Once again, the Spartan was sickened by the internecine struggle in humanity's own ranks. At the same point, John also realized what Mendez was really saying: Yang had gone against not just Ackerson, but also Parangorsky.

"Nobody ever crosses Parangorsky and lives to tell about it. But Yang did. The bitch couldn't even scratch him. Anyone who could do that is not someone you want to fuck with. Even some of the admirals are afraid of him." Mendez finished.

All true. But for John, that presented another question: why stop there?

"So why is Yang just the director of Section III? Anyone who could do that could go a lot farther up the ranks."

"That's because Yang doesn't care about rank, just results. I know the man; he doesn't want to give orders so much as making sure that he doesn't have to take them. And the position he has allows him to stay in the shadows, passing the day to day responsibilities to others and allowing him to intervene whenever he wants."

"But how does he get away with all of this?"

"Because he is too valuable." Mendez answered. "You've seen it yourself. Next to Dr. Halsey, he's probably the best scientist the UNDF has. He's also responsible for streamlining and expanding production and development for every branch in the service. Despite our losses in the war, we're now stronger than we've ever been and it's because of him. But more than that, he seems to have secrets on everyone. People who tried to take him on have all lived but wished they hadn't."

Before either one of them could continue on, though, Cortana flashed into existence on the nearby holotank. "Sorry to interrupt the two of you, but I have a bit of a situation on hand."

Suddenly, the commander felt a shiver of dread going down his spine and silently prayed that he was wrong. "Wait. Don't tell me. It's Spearhead, isn't it?"

Cortana's avatar suddenly seem mildly amused. "Well, you're getting good at this. But yes, it's the lunatics again. They're still holed up in cargo bay five and they have disabled all the sensors in there. And I do mean all, including the smoke alarms. More than that, though, the sensors I have in the adjacent areas are showing an increase in room temperature."

John inwardly groaned. It's simply too early in the morning for this. The commander turned to Mendez. "I'll deal with this, sir."

"Alright. But before you go, I want you to keep this in mind. Yang is different from Ackerson in that he's twice as smart, twice as ruthless, and many times more subtle. He'll always help you, but he also always have an ulterior motive. I guess what I'm trying to say is don't pick a fight with him if you can avoid it."

* * *

The first thing that the commander saw as he walked into cargo bay five was a flash of heat scorching off of a four meter tall column of flames at the center of the bay. Most of the containers have been shoved off to one side or another to give some open space in the center. At said location was what seems like a makeshift barbecue grill made out of old ammunition containers resting on top of layers and layers of titanium-B/C plating. The twins and Richard were present and active in the center with Wa off to the far side, apparently asleep on the crates. None of them had their armor on and were instead in fatigues. Nicole was nowhere to be seen. Richard had a spatula and a chef's hat and seems to be grilling a few fairly large steaks over the hydrogen fueled fire, though John wondered why he had an automatic shotgun in hand. Jonathan seemed to tending to what John surmised as some homemade kludge of an oven while mixing some sort of batter or glaze. Steven, meanwhile was standing with a nearly spent blunt in hand between Richard and Jonathan, apparently directing their efforts. There were atmospheric recyclers off to the side that were running full blast to deal with the smoke.

"Oy Steven. You want it napalmed or nuked?" Richard inquired.

"Oh, nuke it!" Steven enthusiastically replied before replacing his spent blunt with a fresh one. "NUKE IT!"

Richard cackled in response as he ejected a shell from the shotgun's chamber, pulling the case off before pouring the powder onto a steak. Richard then flipped that steak over with a high toss that showed familiarity and experience in the culinary arts. On contact with the grill, the steaks erupt into a column of flames like the one John had witnessed before, one that Steven quickly took advantage of to light his blunt. At that moment, Jonathan pulled a batch of muffins out of the over and proceeded to flash cool it behind the recyclers while applying some sort of glaze on top of them.

It was then that the three realized that they had a guest.

"Ah, commander! Didn't see you there." Richard shouted happily. "Steven, get me another steak. You want it napalmed or nuked, Sir?"

"What the hell is all of this!" John all but shouted.

"Oh, this?" Steven replied as he pulled out another steak from a nearby icebox. "A good hearty breakfast to begin the day with. Haven't done this in a long while."

Before John could do anything else, Jonathan intervened with the batch of muffins in hand.

"Who wants some Kaboom Muffins?"

Immediately, Steven and Richard forget about the task at hand and snatched the proffered pieces of fresh pastry. They even threw one towards the commander which he caught in hand. As the other they bit into their muffins, Jonathan whipped out what looked like a very small Type-II detonator from his pockets before stuffing them into another muffin. Before John could even ask about it, Jonathan triggered the time fuse and tossed the muffin off towards a particularly thick pile of armor plating on the floor. To the commander's recoiling disbelief, the muffin exploded with the force of a grenade. The other two Spearheads quickly followed Jonathan's lead as they stuffed detonators into their half eaten muffins and chucked them away to explode as they cackled.

The Spartan quickly swiped the muffins away from the three Spearheads, much to their displeasure.

"Okay, okay. I'm sorry." Jonathan offered. "The explosion was pretty weak. But it's not my fault."

The Spearhead demolitionist pointed accusingly towards his twin brother. "Douche bag here wanted to taste the vanilla!"

"You put bombs in the muffins!" John shouted as he looked at the Kaboom Muffins in his hands.

"Putting bombs in muffins? What are ya, nuts?" Richard replied. "No! The muffins are the bombs!"

"See! I told you we should have went with seventy percent HMX ratio." Jonathan grumbled. "Hell, probably half explosive force on that one was from the Nitro Glaze."

John throat suddenly felt a little dry. They were actually eating something made out of HMX! Granted, the stuff was non-toxic and that it was stable enough to withstand a lot of heat, but they were actually baking and eating it! And the glaze was made out of Nitroglycerin!

And just to add to the incredulity, Wa was still soundly asleep in the corner despite the shouting and the exploding muffins.

Then at that moment, Nicole waltzed in through the cargo bay doors. Her arms were loaded with crates and crates of gear with a small note that said in ornate handwriting: "_From Serena to my minions_."

With one quick glance, she spotted the commander with the Kaboom Muffins in hand.

"Don't eat those, sir!" Nicole all but shouted as she took them from John. "Those explode."

"Yeah, just be glad that they explode outside rather than inside!" Steven cackled before the others joined him.

"I thought that we've agreed that we'd never talk about that incident with those grunts and jackals ever again." Nicole fumed. "And I go away for two hours and you're already making Kaboom Muffins!"

"Well, no. Not just kaboom muffins. We also have some steaks ready." Richard replied as he flipped another steak, generating another column of flames into the air. At the same time, Jonathan stuffed another detonator into the his half eaten muffin before blowing that up.

"Damn it, stop it! All of you!" Nicole commanded before she proceeded to berate her subordinates.

Unnoticed to the Spearheads, however, the Commander was eerily silent.

It is said that inspiration can strike with the force of a dropped anvil. No, John realized, for inspiration truly strikes with the force of an exploding muffin. For there in cargo bay five, in the midst of chaos that was Spearhead team's attempt to make breakfast that suddenly it all came together.

When the Spearheads finally realized that the commander was staring at them, the only sound in the entire bay was Wa's snoring.

* * *

"So do you understand what I need you to do?"

The team, minus Wa who was still asleep, were nearly dumbfounded as they scanned each other. They were almost refusing to believe what they had just heard.

"Wait, wait, wait!" Steven finally spoke. "So let me get this straight."

"You, commander..." Steven pointed at John.

Before pointing at his teammates. "...want us Spearheads..."

Before finally holding his hands in the air in shock. "... to troll the Covenant?"

John carefully considered his words, knowing full well what he could be unleashing.

"If by trolling, you mean that I want you to royally piss off the Covenant ground forces and keep them focused on you, then yes."

As one, Richard and the twins began to chuckle insidiously before it transformed into a full blown evil laugh. Nicole simply looked at John, wondering if this was a dream.

"This calls for a full session of Spearhead Team's Committee on Nefarious Schemes!" Jonathan gleefully shouted.

Nicole simply sighed and shrugged. "Just another day in Spearhead. Let's get to work then. Rich, go wake Wa up."

"Uh, I'll pass, Nikki." Richard responded with a noted absence of his usual gusto. "Why don't you have a shot at that."

Nicole simply stared at Richard with a glance that said '_because I said so'_.

At that point, John noticed the time was 0700 hours, time for his appointment with Colonel Yang. The commander turned about and left cargo bay five, confident that he had accomplished what he needed there. But before the doors closed fully behind him, John was certain that he heard someone with Richard's voice screaming as the voice flew from one end of the cargo bay to another.


	24. Chapter 24

**Disclaimer: I can't believe that this still has to be said, but Halo is all 343 Industry's. Any attempts to sue the author will net you at most one of my doomsday devices (Go ahead and take one, I have more!)**

**A/N: Offer your sacrifices to Tikigod and Mercenaryhmster so they may continue to beta my fic. Sandwiches will be just fine. **

* * *

"_Minutiae is alpha level mission priority. If this fails, then the mission fails." - Colonel George Yang_

* * *

**0800 Hours, November 5th, 2552 (Military Calendar) / UNS **_**Lancer**_**, Battle Group Stanforth, Interstellar Space, Sector 209. **

"Commander?" A voice in the darkness spoke.

Alone in the captain's quarters, Commander Miranda Keyes awoke upon her bed with groggy disorientation as the lights slowly lit up. When she finally came to, she discovered that she was still in her uniform. The datapad she had been reading last night was still in her hands.

"Ughhh!" Miranda groaned as she raised herself to sit beside the bunk. She still felt a little nauseous and the room seemed to have a slight spin.

"Shall I call for medical, Commander?" The same voice from before said.

"No, Kalmiya. I'll be fine." Miranda brushed off. "What time is it?"

"0800 hours, commander." The AI responded as she finally appeared on the nearby holotank.

Miranda still had to fight back a bit of shock and irritation at Kalmiya's appearances. The AI's holographic avatar, for some reason, looked almost exactly like her right down to the uniform. Even her voice was the same as Miranda's, which made interacting with the AI all the more difficult as the commander almost felt that she was talking to herself. When asked about her appearance and voice, Kalmiya responded that she was created this manner by Dr. Halsey.

"0800? I had set the alarm for 0530."

"Yes, well I took the liberty of silencing your alarm, Commander. Two and a half hours of extra sleep can make all the difference."

Miranda's teeth clenched to the point of grinding themselves. For all the problems that Kalmiya's avatar caused, what really made the AI all the more insufferable was how...helpful...it wanted to be. Every time there seemed to be even the slightest of problems, it instantly popped up to offer her help. More than that, though, it was how informally warm and friendly Kalmiya was that really grated her. It was almost as if the AI was doting on her!

Back in the most conspiratorial recesses of her mind, Miranda briefly considered the possibility that Kalmiya was some half-baked attempt by her mother to drive her insane in some passive-aggressive plot.

"I set that alarm to 0530 for a good reason, Kalmiya." Miranda laid out.

"I'm sorry, Commander. But you need to take it easy. You're still suffering from the tail end syndromes of radiation sickness."

The moment the AI mentioned the word 'radiation', Miranda felt herself almost throwing up in her mouth. Her nausea was the result of receiving more than a few rads above background radiation levels as a result of that... special trip through slipspace to get to Battlegroup Stanforth in such a short time. Almost everyone had been given massive doses of anti-radiation drugs before they were slapped into cryotubes for the trip. Miranda didn't have the slightest clue how they pulled it off, but she would be perfectly content to know that she would never have to do it again. However they did it, nearly everyone in the fleet suffered some amount of radiation poisoning, though fortunately it was far from lethal. While no one was in any danger of dying, the men and women of the fleet could be forgiven in wishing that they were dead considering the symptoms many of them were enduring now. At the very least, no one was in danger of going bald.

Still, she was not about to let herself prove that insufferable AI right.

"I don't have time to be sick. This ship is still an incomplete mess and I have to get the department schedules and repair orders out and..."

"It's already done. I downloaded your instructions from your pad last night and passed them out to the engineering detail. With the additional personnel and equipment from the _Ironworks_, we should be fully operational within 18 hours. Shipwide drills are scheduled for 1100 hours. Just take it easy, Commander. It's been a rough trip."

At that, Miranda sighed in frustration. It was too early in the morning for this.

"Kalmiya. Get out!"

For a moment, the AI almost seemed hurt, but silently complied with the order.

Once again alone, Miranda finally took to tending to herself. After using the bathroom and straightening out her appearance, she took the pad that she had placed on her desk before. A cursory examination showed that Kalmiya was indeed on top of the ship's tasks and needs. The _Lancer_ was receiving help from the _Ironwork's_ technicians, finishing off the last of the incomplete internal relays on deck 4 and 5 as well as the final weapons diagnostics. That colonel from ONI, Yang she believed his name was, had also boarded to make some apparently special modifications to the forward sensor arrays; the details were sparse, but they did say that it concerned the ship's FTL and shield systems.

Grudgingly, Miranda admitted to herself that Kalmiya was minding the ship just fine without her for now. The commander then turned to the other content of the datapad: an introductory report on the Hussar class destroyer.

Due to the circumstances of her taking command of the _Lancer_, Miranda was not nearly as familiar with her ship as any captain would prefer. Of course, being an applicant for the Principle Interstellar Combatant program, she did know that she was volunteering to command an experimental vessel of some sort, but she never suspected that the new ship would be so radically different from the older ships in the fleet. Upon getting out of the cryotubes, Miranda had seen to her crew and ship's immediate well being before retiring to her quarters to catch up on the details. From the page number she was on, though, she had barely gotten started before she had passed out. It was just as well, though. Miranda didn't remember anything that she had read last night.

After getting a cup of coffee, Miranda started reading again from the beginning.

_The product of the Principle Interstellar Combatant Program, the Hussar class heavy destroyer is the first class of UNDFSC warships designed specifically to fight the Covenant. The concept revolves around the need to create a dedicated ship killer that is both formidable and mass producible at an acceptable cost and could sustain the critical rate of attrition on an operation. In this, the Hussar boasts an intensely modular design. Though primary hull and a few critical compartments such as the bridge are fixed, the entire remainder of the ship from the secondary honeycomb hull to the individual compartments are fully modular and interchangeable. Any damaged section of the ship can be disengaged from the primary hull and replaced wholesale. From this, even the most savagely damaged Hussar can be made battle ready in 48 hours if replacement parts are available. Modularization also gives a significant manufacturing advantage as nearly every portion of a ship can be prefabricated as well as giving a myriad of potential specialized configurations. The average time for a Hussar to be produced and assembled from scratch is 10 days, though additional shakedown time is recommended and different variants may take longer. Outsized engines and trigeneration multi-boosting Helium-3 reactors make the Hussar slightly faster than the Tribal class so as to keep up with the Halcyon class battlecruisers. _

_The other critical aspect of the Hussar is offensive staying power. Advances in MAC technology in terms both the accelerator and the munitions make the big guns the like of the Mk12 obsolete. The critical objective in an interstellar engagement with the Covenant is not to quickly kill the Covenant ships, but to destroy their protective cold plasma shields. A single large powerful round is often not enough to cripple a Covenant ship. The objective therefore becomes knocking their shields down and making sure that it stays that way, rendering the target vulnerable to secondary weapons. The new smaller Mk 17 MAC fires a much smaller 7 ton, 21 kiloton yield kinetic fusion shell at a rate of 7 rounds a minute; at sustained fire, the Mk17 guns would hack away at Covenant shields and keep them from regenerating as well as delivering substantial hull damage. An added benefit of a smaller and lighter round is its greater velocity, significantly decreasing the likelihood of its target dodging the shot. A Hussar has two Mk 17 guns in addition to a primary Mk 19 medium MAC capable of firing three round bursts of heavy shells. __The Mk 3 Harpoon torpedoes may be deployed from four forward facing torpedo tubes and can be hot launched from the two Mk17 guns. __Fifteen Phalanx PDLs and 25 missile pods completes the Hussar's fixed armaments.  
_

_At 3.5m in thickness (a third again the older Tribal-class destroyer's armor thickness), with new generation electroreactive spaced reactive armor in addition to ARC armor and the Mk 1 shield generators, the Hussar is much more heavily protected than her predecessors. A Mk 5 ECM suite and Mk1 magnetic disruptors forms the active portion of the Hussar's defenses. The Mk 1 disruptors are the first attempts to control and deflect incoming Covenant plasma torpedoes by means of contesting the torpedoes' magnetic constriction and guidance field. Through multiple disruptors working in conjunctions, they can alter the torpedoes' trajectory or even disperse it depending on the conditions at hand. _

_Production of the Hussar has begun by the beginning of 2552. Plans are in motion to phase out the Tribal class destroyers and all frigates to focus all industrial capacity on the Hussar to achieve maximum economy of scale. _

"Commander?" Kalmiya's voice spoke once again from the holotank.

"What is it now, Kalmiya?" Miranda responded with exasperation.

"I just received a request to board from a shuttle pod bound from the _Pillar of Autumn_."

The _Pillar of Autumn_? That was her father's new ship. Was Captain Keyes coming to pay his daughter a visit? Miranda hoped so but doubted it; her father wasn't the type to come around without some fair amount of advance warning.

"Who is on the shuttle pod?" The commander asked.

"There's only one passenger: Commander Spartan-117. He's coming to see Colonel Yang."

It was a Spartan. And not just any Spartan, but their commander himself. Instantly, thoughts of the report was put away as she finished off the last of her coffee. In its stead was an intense sense of curiosity.

She wanted to meet Spartan-117.

"Send the authorization, Kalmiya. I want to meet him in person." Miranda ordered as she made for the door.

"Understood, Commander."

As she walked pass the corridors towards the elevator, one thought went through Miranda's mind.

_Let's see if all of dad's stories are true._

* * *

The shuttle pod came to a rest in the _Lancer's_ cramped port side landing bay before disembarking its passenger. Commander-117 surveyed his new surroundings. This ship was more than just fresh out of the dry dock. Aside from being pathetically small for a landing bay, the aforementioned location looked like it was still in construction. More than a few bulkheads and deck plates were exposed as engineers went about their task. Nor was the paint job even finished yet. Still, from the view that the Spartan got on the way in, the _Lancer_ looked like a very formidable combatant. With its very thick armor, recessed weapons emplacements, and comparatively large engine pods and MAC, the _Lancer_ looked as if someone had attempted to create a mini-cruiser rather than a destroyer.

Coming to the _Lancer_ was not something John had in mind when Colonel Yang said that he had wanted a meeting with the Spartan at 0700. The Spartan had expected to see the Colonel in his office on the _Pillar of Autumn_. There was no word or warning of any kind of a change of venue save a single handwritten note directing the Spartan to the _Lancer's_ forward sensor bay. John had come alone. There was no need to bother anyone else over the still unfinished operational plans. Cortana, however, had wanted to come, most like due to her inability to not stick her proverbial nose into anything of interest; that was, until the AI checked the current manifest of the destroyer and found one Dr. Marilyn Thatcher on board. Cortana had quickly backed out afterward, saying that she wanted to be nowhere near that insufferable woman.

After the Spartan weaved his way through the exposed decks and laboring engineers, who were visibly awed or timid of the Mjolnir-clad Spartan despite John's best efforts, he made for the nearby elevator. But before he could reach the controls, the doors opened to reveal its lone passenger.

There was a woman wearing the a commander's billet. She was young, maybe in her late twenties, with shoulder length brown hair and green eyes. But for all the attempts of John's mind to categorize her appearance, the Spartan kept being dragged to a single conclusion.

He was looking at Cortana.

"Ah, Commander!" Miranda jolted, though in her defense most people would when surprised by a Spartan. The Spartan quickly came to attention and saluted, prompting the same from Miranda.

"Welcome aboard, Spartan." Miranda offered before extending her hand. Despite their much lauded superhuman speed and reaction time, there was a notable and awkward delay for Commander-117 to accept her hand.

"Thank you, ma'am." 117 replied.

Miranda had to fight back a chuckle. Dad was right. Spartans can't help but be formal despite the fact that both she and Spartan-117 shared the same rank.

"Please." Miranda said as she gestured for the Spartan to join her in the elevator. "I've been told that you're here to see Colonel Yang."

"Yes, ma'am." John replied. "I'm told that he's in the forward sensor bay."

"Well, I'll be happy to take you to him because I'm headed to see him right now myself. I need to find out what he's been doing to my ship."

"I appreciate it, commander."

As the elevator shifted forward, the two officers settled into silence, though not in inaction. John took a moment to better observe Miranda's features. She definitely resembled Cortana to a shocking degree, but now that he had gotten a better look John spotted minor differences like a strong jaw and a less pronounced cheek. If anything, John now thought that Miranda more resembled Doctor Halsey back when he first met her all those years ago rather than Cortana. Also, her demeanor had unsettled John somewhat. Most people who met Spartans for the first time had reactions of either awe or even fear. Miranda, instead, had a very friendly and not at all fearful stance towards him, something that the Spartan didn't know how to react to.

Then there was also the name tag. She couldn't be related to Captain Keyes, could she? Until now, he had just assumed that she had the same surname as Captain Keyes. It wouldn't be the first time that the Spartan transferred between ships whose captains have the same last name, especially in a fleet this size.

For her part, Miranda seemed eminently curious and inquisitive of her guest, her green eyes taking in every detail of his armor in the same manner as a Spartan would. Those same eyes picked up on the subtle twitch of John's right arm and shoulder.

"Is something wrong, Commander?" Miranda inquired, prompting another slightest of jolts on his left shoulder. Following the movement of her eyes, John could see that she had spotted that twitch.

"Uh, not at all, ma'am." John fumbled.

The Spartan's social clumsiness, however, only prompted a slight chuckle and a friendly smile from Miranda. "So dad was right about you Spartans. You can't make good conversation if your life depended on it."

"So Captain Jacob Keyes...?" John inquired.

"Yes, he's my father." Miranda replied with a nod. That was something that she was always proud of admitting. "My dad told me a while back that he was briefly involved in the Spartan program a long time ago. He sent me a letter about a month back saying that he had met you Spartans on Reach. He told me that you Spartans were the best soldiers he's ever seen, but also the worst conversationalists ever."

Now John was really treading in new territory. Commander Keyes was like no one else that he had ever met. She was not interested in his capability or his history, but rather his behavior. Also, her movements had caught his attentions. While it was casual, her gestures had an efficiency of motion about them. Even that simple gesture from before for him to enter the elevator show it, her motions utilizing a minimal amount of exertion and her body's center of gravity never shifting. That, combined with her seemingly instinctive ability to read Spartan gestures and her resemblance to Dr. Halsey left John completely blank on what to make of her.

"It's okay. If you have some questions, you can ask. I don't mind." Miranda offered.

"Uh, no ma'am. I don't..." John fumbled once more. "I, uh, just noticed that you resemble someone I know."

"Oh, really? May I ask who?" Miranda asked.

"Doctor Catherine Halsey."

With that, Miranda's chipper mood was instantly replaced with a moment absolute indignation so fleeting that the Spartan barely caught it before, Miranda's features turned expressionless.

John dipped his head apologetically. "If it's something I said..."

"No, no no." Miranda dismissed with a wave of her hand. "Well, yes it is, but it's alright, Commander. Still, I'd appreciate it if you don't bring up that name again."

The Spartan simply nodded. Miranda gently patted the Spartan on the shoulder.

"Don't worry, commander. I won't hold it against you."

The door opened onto deck 4 and the two walked pass the multitude of technicians working in the corridor until they reached the _Lancer's_ forward sensor bay. Inside, instead of a full team of engineers, there were simply two persons: Colonel Yang and Dr. Thatcher. The latter was still in her scandalously red dress while sitting in front of the console with a small plate of chocolate covered strawberries in her hands. The former was on his back underneath the main interface with a variety of diagnostic tools around him.

"No. That won't do at all. 1.7 K is still far too high." Marilyn all but sang as she suckled on a strawberry. "You'll risk an entropic feedback loop and triple the magnitude of error with the synchotron disruption ratio going up at least 1.68."

"Okay, Marilyn. You made your point. I'll see if I can stabilize the phased Eta prime meson decay rate and tightening up the upper Geerson matrix. It should tamp down on the phase three quantum oscillations and stop that damn quantum tunneling that's screwing up the sub-inflection calculation and intra-manifold synchrotron containment. That should put PW function at transit somewhere between 2.9 to 3.05 electron volts."

"Hoooh, I love it when you talk dirty!" Marilyn comment. "And the tensor readings will be fine as long they come out at 2.943 eV."

After a few moments, Yang looked at the diagnostic once more.

"Huh? So it is."

The colonel dusted himself off before Dr. Thatcher helped him up. The two spotted Miranda and John staring oddly at the scene before them.

"Well, it seems that we have an audience, love. What do you say that we give them a show?" The doctor said with a mischievous wink.

Despite himself, the colonel found himself laughing at her bold statement.

"I'm sorry, Commanders." Yang finally offered after collecting himself. "And I apologize for the detour, Commander-117. I had to deal with some unforeseen obstacles to the upgrades."

"Okay, Colonel. Maybe you can finally tell me what you've been doing to my ship." Miranda inquired.

"Just sprucing up the sensor suite to get some better slipspace transit accuracy, Commander." Dr. Thatcher replied as the brunette nibbled on another delectable strawberry dripping with chocolate. "I'm sure that you can sympathize with me in that while raw power has its appeal, there's just no substitute for knowing exactly what you're doing and where you're going with it."

Once again, the colonel was utterly amused with the sheer brazenness of Marilyn's innuendos.

Miranda, however, wasn't amused at all.

"Colonel, you may outrank me, but this my ship. Civilian or not, I don't appreciate this kind of behavior on my ship." Miranda said as she crossed her arms in front of her chest.

"Oh, you're no fun." Marilyn pouted. "But alright. I can do business for the colonel sake. What we did to your ship is to turn it into one of thirty five pathfinders in the fleet."

"Pathfinders?" Miranda asked.

"Yes, specifically the Hussars and the Halcyon class ships." Yang picked up. "Most of their equipment were designed with the expressed intent of being upgraded in the near future. I just never thought that it would be this near a future."

"And what exactly do your sensor upgrades do?" Miranda furthered.

"Well, we had to fashion a few additional parts from the _Ironworks_, but what we've done is to lessen the stress on the entropic inversion node at the moment of trans-dimensional transit to keep the Shaw coefficient as low as possible. You have to understand that interspatial transit error is a direct function of the initial transit precision because the initial transit entropy is carried over to exiting event..."

"Oh, posh!" Dr. Thatcher intervened as she placed a finger on the colonel's lips. "Sorry, sweetheart. You get credit for trying, but there's a reason why you never became a lecturer on slipspace mechanics. Let me take a shot at this."

Yang raised his hands in exasperation. "Alright, Marilyn. You're better than me at 11th dimensional physics anyway."

The brunette grinned in triumph before turning back towards the two commanders.

"Why don't we forget all those transdimensional calculations and try a simple metaphor. Have either one of you ever went sailing, as in actual wind and sails sailing?"

The Spartan shook his head while Miranda sighed first before deciding to play along and shook her head.

"Well, that's a pity. It's something that everyone should try at least once in their life. You in particular, my dear Spartan, because you're in desperate need of a good tan. But sailing the oceans is a good frame of reference for slipspace travel. The slipspace eddies are gravitational shadows and echoes projected across the higher dimensions that coalesce to random interference patterns like the ocean waves. And like all methods of locomotion, Slipstream travel is really two components: propulsion and navigation. For all the advances humanity made during the last three centuries, we are like the poor saps of the ancient times sailing the high seas under wind and oar power with nary a shred of understanding of the ocean currents. We humans try to sail straight across the oceans by only latitudinal dead reckoning and are completely incapable of navigating the eddies. That is why we suffer incredible space-time distortions during slipspace travel. Meanwhile, the Covenant are like modern sailors complete with automated propulsion and a good grasp of the ocean currents; their engines are powerful enough to cut straight through the eddies while theirs sensors are good enough to navigate around them. "

John felt pleasantly surprised. That was easily the best explanation of slipspace mechanics that he had ever heard.

The doctor polished off the last strawberry before handing the dish over to the colonel. "I and plenty of others have been working on a solution for a very long time. We've always known that it was all about the precision of the interdimensional tear of the the Slipspace entry event, but we've never been able to get the necessary precision in the sensor data. Thanks to the Covenant, now we know what to look for. Think of it as driving faster by driving smarter, taking the shortest and straightest path while avoiding the 11th dimensional equivalent of detours. Granted, the average Covenant ship would still be about twice as fast as an average UNSC ship, but a dozen fold increase in speed is nothing to laugh at."

"Alright, so we can navigate slipspace more accurately and do pinpoint jumps." Miranda concluded. "But we still can't move slipspace as fast as the Covenant can."

"Now you're on the right track, my lovely dear. There's only so much that me and the colonel can do in the field like this. We can have a reverse engineered prototype slipspace engine ready in probably a week, but to install it would require a major overhaul of the ship its mounted on. And don't forget the testing and all. Even the sensor upgrades have some major limitations. We can narrow the transit error down to about forty kilometers, give or take depending on the ship. Again, not perfect but it is one hell of an improvement compared to the hundreds of thousands or even millions of kilometers as it was before. More important to our current situation is that it allows us to make jumps within relatively strong gravity wells."

"So how will the pathfinders work in our situation?" Miranda furthered.

"Each of the pathfinders will be assigned to a squadron and will create the initial slipspace entry event. As it departs our dimension, the other ships of the squadron will follow right behind, merging their slipspace bubble with yours to ride your ship's less chaotic wake through the 11 dimensional manifolds. All the ships will then arrive more or less in formation with some manageable error in the exact exit point. I'm not saying that it'll be easy once the Covenant starts shooting at you, but that part we'll leave up to you."

As the others discussed the implications of the sensor upgrades, however, the lone Spartan in the room couldn't help but recall something else about Dr. Thatcher's work, something that as a tactician he couldn't help but ask.

"So how did Admiral Cole pull off his escape if he didn't have all of this?"

Instantly, the other three focused on the only person that had been quiet thus far.

"Now there's the million credit question." Dr. Thatcher answered. "I believe that the colonel has knowledge of some files that could answer that for us."

"Well, I suppose that it doesn't hurt for it to come out into the open at this point." Colonel Yang picked up. "ONI has discovered some records of Cole sifting through a lot of planetary and system charts and analysis on the sectors around Psi Serpentis before the battle. From the data recovered, I believe that he had already calculated an idealized intra-gravity well jump solution and was trying to find the perfect environment to pull it off. Of all the star systems he could have chosen as a battleground, he chose Psi Serpentis because it offered nearly perfect conditions for his plan. The gas giant Verperidae was one of the most stable ones that we have ever found. More than that, the other objects of the star system was on the other side of the sun at the time of the battle and the Serpentis star itself was undergoing a period of low sun spot activities. That drastically minimized the variables that he had to account for. Also, Cole's trajectory would have taken him towards the polar regions where the atmosphere was most stable, minimizing oscillations in gravitational flux. In such a situation, an intra-atmosphere jump, while terribly inaccurate, would have been very much possible."

"Or to put it simply, whereas the rest of us always try to find a solution to our problems, he found a problem to his solution." Dr. Thatcher finished. "Creativity. I just love that in a man."

Before anyone else could continue, the holotank in the room came to life. However, the projection was blurred, as was the voice.

"Comma...Keyes...modifica...overloading...optical relay... deck 7..."

"Well, it looks like Kalmiya is having some trouble." Colonel Yang concluded. The colonel then switched to examine the console. "Looks like it's busted here too. Marilyn, why don't you give the boys on deck 7 a hand. It might have been something that we did to the number 4 compression relay."

"I highly doubt it." Dr. Thatcher replied before departing. "But I'm sure that the engineers won't mind the company."

Miranda simply shook her head as the exit closed behind Marilyn.

"I'm going to go keep an eye on her." The _Lancer_'s CO stated before departing after her quarry.

As the door closed behind Miranda, the colonel's demeanor turned serious even as he strolled over to the exit to lock the door.

"Did you know, commander, that the sensor bays on every starship are electronically shielded? It has to be. After all, you don't want your sensor readings to be mangled by local interference."

John took a moment to ponder the colonel's words. Electronic shielding? The only reason that the colonel would need that is for privacy. Privacy that obviously excluded both Commander Keyes and Dr. Thatcher.

What the hell did the colonel wanted to discuss? Did Yang deliberately orchestrated John's coming to the _Lancer_? Recalling his conversation with Colonel Mendez, John wouldn't pass that over Yang.

"I don't understand, sir. Did you sabotage the relay?" John probed warily.

"What me? There was no sabotage that I know of here." Yang replied with deliberately nonchalant tone. "Doing some major modification to a primary system on board an incomplete ship with dozens of engineers still messing around with every system. I trust that you believe me that some sort of short in the system is bound to happen."

"One that can also short out any potential bugs." John surmised.

Yang smiled. "Good. Now that we're on the same page, let's get down to business."

The colonel produced a data crystal from his pockets and handed it over to the Spartan.

"Do you remember when I mentioned that I was running a cyber-warfare project with Cortana?"

"Aye, sir." John replied. "You called it Minutiae."

"Yes. That there is the finished product. I'm adding an additional objective to your mission. Once you are on High Charity, you and Cortana will find one of the central network nodes and upload Minutiae into the Covenant computer system. This should not take you off course. The central core relay of High Charity's networks should be in that giant starship in the center of the city. You should have no serious problems in accomplishing this. Once you've uploaded Minutiae, it'll piggyback onto the next Covenant systems update."

The commander looked at the crystal in his hand once more. The colonel had said that a commander is expected to ask questions.

Now he had plenty.

"But why the secrecy, Sir?" The Spartan asked. "What does Minutiae do?"

"I apologize for the cloak and dagger, Commander, but I wasn't expecting to have to call in reinforcements for this operation. That fleet probably brought more than just men and firepower. There's no way to be sure without revealing my hand and that's out of the question. It's not that I don't trust Commander Keyes and Dr. Thatcher, but secrets are like old rooftops: they always leak eventually if you don't watch them. Not to go on a tangent, commander, but there was a reason why I chose Dr. Halsey to be my assistant director and for Cortana to be your AI, and it wasn't just because they are both damn good at what they do. No, I chose them because they are like me, someone whose willing to run some serious risks."

At that, Yang sighed before sitting down onto the chair before continuing.

"The main reason for all this secrecy is that Minutiae is the most sophisticated independent non-sentient infiltration software ever written by man. It's a Trojan program that can infect data compilers on quantum level processes, making it exceedingly difficult to detect, let alone remove."

"What does it do?"

"Well, by itself, nothing really. Mostly it's just to provide backdoor access to otherwise unauthorized users. Think of it as laying the groundwork for future attacks. Electronic warfare is the one undeniable clear cut edge that we have over the Covenant and Minutiae will allow us to fully exploit it. You see, hacking into a Covenant network is not difficult. The problem is that regardless of how you break in, it's inevitable that you'll be discovered eventually. Usually, the counter is to simply work fast and hit something sensitive before they can lock you out, usually by physically severing the network. What Minutiae can do is allow us sustained and hidden access into Covenant systems in real time. We could potentially have a spy in every Covenant outpost and ship. More than that, imagine what we can do with a sustained cyber attack on a strategic scale on the Covenant industrial base. We might actually be able to level the playing field."

"So does that mean that we can take control of their ships?" John asked hopefully. That might turn the space war into a ground war, making the Spartans decisive.

"No, I'm sorry, commander. But taking over ships by hacking is the stuff of spy novels. Sure, you can technically completely take over any starship in an ideal situation. Unfortunately, the crew always respond by scorched earth tactics. Lock down the ship, flash the core, and filter incoming data to hard measurements. Slows the entire ship down, but works like a charm against hacks. Not even Minutiae can solve that, but what it can do is give us the ability to steal data and disrupt processing accuracy. As the old saying goes, the devil is in the details."

"But why hide all of this?" John asked in confusion.

"Because, as I said, Minutiae is the most advanced non-sentient cyber-warfare program ever made. Not all of HighCom believes that the rewards are worth the risk. Imagine what can happen if the Covenant can isolate its source code. It's technically possible, though exceedingly difficult, that they could turn it against us. But I don't think that they will. When Dr. Halsey and I explored captured Covenant computers and their programs, we found that they were more than a few redundancies and extraneous components that add nothing to their functions; they were subtle, but for the well trained eye they make some pretty big differences. What we found on the _Truth and Reconciliation_ confirmed my theory: for all their seeming power, Covenant technologies are actually knockoffs of some other even more advance alien technologies and that the Covenant don't fully grasp how they work. There are hints of that everywhere if one knows where to look, from the Covenant computer architecture to the magnetic amplifiers on their plasma weapons. More than that, though, they are absolutely unwilling to fiddle around at the theoretical and source code level because their cockamamie religion forbids it. That's why I believe that we can use Minutiae safely."

The Spartan sighed. This was a situation that he has never encountered before: the highest of his superiors couldn't even agree on a course of actions. How was he supposed to approach this?

"Does Admiral Stanforth know about this?" John asked.

"Oh, yes." Yang replied. "In fact, he was the one that gave the final approval."

After a few moments of contemplation, the Spartan pocketed the crystal. Despite now knowing what Yang is capable of, the colonel had gotten them this far. So far as he knew, there were no hints of any conflicts of interests and he trusted Cortana to be honest about Minutiae.

"I understand, sir. Once we're on High Charity, Cortana and I will deliver Minutiae into the Covenant networks."

Yang smile and reached up to pat the Spartan in the shoulder.

"Good man. I know that you'll get it done. But if only for my own comfort, I'll say this again. Minutiae is alpha level mission priority. If this fails, then the mission fails."


	25. Chapter 25

**Disclaimer: I can't believe that this still has to be said, but Halo is all 343 Industry's. Any attempts to sue the author will net you at most one of my doomsday devices (Go ahead and take one, I have more!)**

**A/N: This chapter is the first since the intro to bring in a Covenant perspective. To deal with some potential confusion, keep the following in mind: R'tas Vadumee (Spec Ops Commando from Halo 2 & 3, otherwise known as Half-Jaw) and Thel Vadamee (the Arbiter from canon).  
**

**Also Warning: there is some fair amount of drug use in this chapter. **

**Second to last, advance apologies to Bioware and Mass Effect 3 as well as the Simpsons. You'll see. **

**And finally, offer your sacrifices to Tikigod, Mercenaryhmster, and my new beta Animus of Masada so they may continue to beta my fic. Sandwiches will be just fine. **

* * *

"_An Army is maintained for a thousand days to be used in one.__" - Sun Tzu, the Art of War._

* * *

**Ninth Age of Reclamation, Step of Silence \ Covenant Holy City "High Charity," Citadel of the Council of Masters.**

There existed many nerve centers in the holy city of High Charity, each facilitating the glory of the Covenant Empire. The most obvious being the mighty Forerunner vessel nestled at the very heart of the city, from which the majority of the mobile station's power and network control originate. Then there were the political and religious centers, which, for the Covenant, were one and the same. There was also the Inner Sanctum of the Hierarchs, along with the Outer Sanctum of the High Council, which formed the heart of the Covenant's governing body. A few kilometers away, separated by urban sprawl, was the Sacred Valley where the Writ of Union— the founding event of the Covenant—was first signed by the Sangheili and San'Shyuum a great many ages ago. This valley of small rolling hills, groves, and streams are preserved as it was at the very moment of signing and remained the holiest site for rituals. Finally, there was the Citadel of the Council of Masters, where the fleetmasters convened to direct the righteous fury of the Covenant's massive armadas.

Any pilgrims visiting the Holy City at the time, though, would be temporarily disappointed. With the Anniversary of the Founding mere days away, most government officials were already gone on holiday. The only major government body still functioning at full splendor was the Citadel of the Council of Masters. Formerly the seat of power for the Sangheili Grand Council before the formation of the Covenant, the massive structure was lifted wholesale from its grounds on Sangheilos and placed on High Charity. Its foundation was a sizable plateau that raised the entire structure high above the rest of the cityscape. It was designed to be both fully defensible while also serving as an artistic tribute to the past glories of ancient times. With high walls and steep cliffs, the only viable way to enter the Citadel was through its heavily defended front entrance. The approaching rampart was smooth, but it also formed a massive funnel for any attackers, whom would be under fire from a series of heavily reinforced keeps. Even if the invaders breached the outer wall, the inner bastion formed a fortress within a fortress that, with its open spaces and keeps, made it even more defensible than the outer wall. It was a monument to Sangheili military culture: elegance with brutal lethality.

Of course, all of this was made moot by the fact that the fortress had no conceivable foes to defend against, and that the bulk of the security force's weaponry was small arms and sensors meant to detect plainly dressed assassins and spies rather than lumbering armies. The central courtyard that was originally meant to be a killing ground had since been repurposed as the Citadel's central commons, with appropriate splendor. The only heavy weapons still in place in the Citadel were a series of anti-air needle batteries that only pointed outward and skyward and a plasma shield surrounding the inner bastion. These were put in place during the Age of Conversion after Councilor Quiolmee's infamous plot to assassinate the entire Council of Masters with airborne sharpshooters, which came perilously close to success.

Sited just past the Mausoleum of the Arbiters, the main chamber housed the Council of Masters in a series of benches that formed a rough arc with its concave facing the entrance. The stage below featured a fairly large dais, forming a theater-like stage for the council members. This setup was by design, as it harkened back to the days of bloody tanistry when the majority of Sangheili promotions through the ranks were by officially sanctioned duels to the death.

Beside the architectural marvel that is the Citadel, though, visitors would also be able to witness the political drama unfolding in the main chamber.

"This is unprecedented! Unacceptable!"

The esteemed members of the Council of Masters growled in agreement to the speaker, a single Sangheili ultra standing in the middle of the chamber hall. However, there were a few dissidents that kept their silence.

Opposite the Ultra, the Prophet of Truth raised his hand to silence the audience. A single Jiralhanae, a chieftain with a gray coat of fur and the mighty Fist of Rukt, stood to his side, chuckling to himself in mild amusement. Gracefully, the prophet's throne glided over towards the ultra.

"It is merely a parade, Commander Vadamee," the prophet offered.

Vadamee swiped his arms at the comment. "Yes, Prophet. It is indeed a parade, but only for the honored escorts of Your Holiness on the Great Journey. Only the Sangheilis have ever marched before the Sacred Valley on the Day of Union. Since the very founding of the Covenant, it has been so."

Truth folded his hands in a show of patience, a patience that was wearing very thin beneath his veneer of calm. "And the Sangheili shall remain as such. There is no reason for the Council's anger."

"Is there?" Vadamee retorted, suspicion clearly evident in his tone.

Finally, Tartarus erupted in laughter before sneering at Vadamee. "What's wrong? Can't handle at little competition?"

The ultra stretched his mandibles, growling a challenge that, unfortunately, everyone knew Tartarus would not be permitted to accept.

Not satisfied with his first slight, Tartarus pushed on. "Perhaps if you focused more on your jobs rather than useless formalities, the war against the vermin would have already been won."

Before the exchange between the two warriors could turn lethal, the chamber doors opened once more to admit two new guests. The august and revered Prophet of Mercy ushered into the chamber with another detachment of Sangheili honor guards. Beside him was a Sangheili fleetmaster donned in gold and black armor.

Immediately, Mercy spoke with both authority and plea in his raspy voice. "Peace! We are all travelers on the Great Journey. The only possible manner of which we may fail our inevitable destiny is for us to splinter from within."

The chamber quickly settled down. Vadamee immediately bowed before the newly arrived Sangheili.

"Fleetmaster Vadamee. You grace us with your presence." The Sangheili commando greeted.

The commander of the Fleet of Particular Justice returned the gesture before glaring at Tartarus. "Why is that mongrel here?"

"The Prophet of Truth and Tartarus have come to announce that it is the High Council's decision that a detachment of Jiralhanae be allowed to march with you during the parade on the Day of Union."

Vadamee narrowed his eyes before marching in front of Tartarus' face. "You are trying to go above your station, Chieftain." Vadamee spoke with both respect and hostility, as was due for a powerful potential foe in the eyes of the Sangheili.

"Not for long, Fleetmaster," Tartarus replied with a conspiratorial grin before turning to Council of Master once more. "Regardless of whatever delicate feelings that you might harbor, the High Council has spoken. Do you dare to defy the voice of the Covenant?"

A long silence hung in the air until Tartarus spoke once more. "I thought not."

"Then we shall boycott the ceremony!" the fleetmaster answered.

Within seconds, the council erupted in agreement.

Vadamee tuned to Tartarus again. Though he spoke softly, his words carried the weight of an honor-bound protest of the highest level. "The Council of Masters have spoken. You want the parade? It's yours. But there shall be no legion of honor beside you."

"That suits me just fine," Tartarus spat back.

"No!" Truth shouted. "The Anniversary of the Founding shall not be disrupted by these trivialities!"

Vadamee interjected himself once more. "The Council of Masters is not the leashed Unngoy of the High Council. The Writ of Union is explicit in our autonomy in matters of ceremony."

"Enough!" Mercy declared, silencing the room. "The High Council's commands shall be done. However, the commander is correct. If the Council of Masters wishes to boycott the ceremony, it is well within their right to do so. So say the Writ of Union!"

With some hesitation, all the participants nodded in acquiescence.

As the commotion died down, Mercy nodded towards Truth, and the two prophets quickly departed the council chambers. Passing through to the citadel's courtyard, Mercy turned towards the Jiralhanae chieftain and the honor guards. "Leave us."

The underlings quickly faded away, leaving the two prophets to the serenity of the courtyard's stone works and shrubbery.

"It was fortunate that the Fleetmaster arrived early," Truth began. "Vadamee is far more sensible than the rest of the—"

"Do you not listen?" Mercy interrupted. "Or perhaps you do not remember our station?"

"I remember, old friend," Truth replied, his tone betraying his slight exasperation and familiarity for the subject. "For the Covenant."

"Yes, for the Covenant, though I might be convinced otherwise by your actions."

"You are overreacting," Truth replied. "The Council of Masters is overreacting. The High Council is in agreement with me. Change is inevitable."

"You mean the High Council that approved your plan with the smallest of majority?" Mercy challenged.

"A slim majority is still a majority," Truth argued.

The elder hierarch sighed before turning towards the younger. "You are making this far more difficult an enterprise than it need be. Between you and Regret, the destruction of the humans will be for nothing if you two tear the Covenant apart from the inside out. He will not be happy to hear what you have done in his absence."

Truth scoffed at the comment. Regret was the real firebrand, not him. The youngest hierarch was both the most religiously fanatical of the three and the most reliable hierarch for the Sangheilis. Between Regret's immoveable stance on the status of the Sangheilis and Mercy's political moderation, it had proved nigh impossible to prosecute his efforts to increase the standing of the Jiralhanae before the eyes of the Covenant masses. Regret's absence on his archeological expedition made things far easier.

"It was a mistake to include him in the first place, old friend," Truth said.

"One could say the same for you," Mercy remarked. "Regardless, the deed is done. This crisis is over."

The elder hierarch turned his throne and began to float away. Suddenly, he turned back towards Truth and spoke. "I am getting too old for this, Ord. I shall not be around forever, keeping the peace between the two of you. I pray to the Forerunners that the two of you would finally stop your agitations. If not, then before my passing I shall weep for our sacred Covenant."

* * *

**0500 Hours, November 10th, 2552 (Military Calendar) / 1****st**** Spartan Combat Group, Captured Covenant Cargo Ship, X-3279 System, Sector 357. **

So this was it.

Once again on the bridge of the captured cargo ship, Spartan-117 looked out at the ship's destination. Outside the holy city, over 700 ships of High Charity's defense fleet loitered about, taking their time to inspect every ship, civilian and military, bound for the mobile station. The local airspace was crowded with literally thousands of ships of all sorts waiting in line. Unsurprisingly, the line moved forward only ever so slowly.

It seemed that red tape was truly a universal phenomenon.

John had to fight down a sense of dread. The beginning of most missions tended to be the time when the entire thing could go to hell. Case in point, every single one of the 700-plus warships in the defense fleet was at high alert, their plasma torpedo turrets glowing white hot. To top it all off, the computers confirmed that at least two destroyers already had targeting solutions on their little ship.

Just then, the computer console in front of Kat chirped.

"Oh, that's not good for them," she commented. "And they missed the window by just a tenth of a second."

On cue, a couple of frigates fired off a volley of plasma torpedoes and point defense laser beams towards the one of the transports at the front of the line. The transport instantly disintegrated, though frigates kept firing until no chunks bigger than a person's fist were left.

That was not at all the first Covenant ship that the Spartans had seen blown up by their own fleet. And it wasn't just civilian ships, either, as shown by the assault carrier that met its end about an hour ago. For a moment, the commander wondered how many more ships the UNDFSC would have had to face in battle if it weren't for High Charity's overly paranoid defenses.

"Oh, relax," Cortana spoke up as her holographic avatar flashed to life nearby. "I got this. A simple exterior inspection and electronic confirmation is not going to stop little-old-me."

The commander didn't reply. There was no need to. Everyone knew that Cortana's capability wasn't the issue here. Of course he trusted Cortana to get them past the electronic inspections. However, this was just the first layer of many to come of High Charity's defenses. Despite the incredible stroke of luck with the intelligence provided by this Medicant Bias fellow and the subsequent plans to deal with the station's defenses, all Spartans took to heart the-age old nugget of wisdom from Baron von Clausewitz: 'No plan survives first contact with the enemy.'

As if fate itself wished to confirm John's fears, the sensors beeped again, moments before yet another Covenant civilian ship in front of them exploded under fire from the defense fleet.

Resigning himself to at least a couple more hours of waiting in line, the commander decided that it was time to make his final inspection of what would be the most critical aspect of the coming battle: the distraction.

"I'll be back," John stated simply before leaving the bridge for the elevators.

For the coming battle, everything rode the ability of Spearhead Team's capacity to draw the attention of the entire High Charity ground defense force. To that end, the commander did something that he'd never imagine that he'd do: giving Spearhead carte blanche to do whatever they wanted.

Once the elevator stopped in the second deck, the Spartan braced himself for what was he certain to be an unpleasant sight.

His fears were not unjustified.

Immediately, the commander's senses were assaulted with the acrid scent of cannabis and tobacco combined with the pungent smell of ammonium nitrate and hydrazine. As the smoke literally billowed out the door, he could finally see the interior.

From Cortana, John knew that four of the five Spearheads were present with Wa absent as always. Almost right away, the commander's attention was captivated the origins of the smoke: a very inebriated Steven-666, who was lying on a mattress with his armor on, sans helmet. The Spearhead sharpshooter was groggily singing to himself with what looked to be a glass vase in hand.

Upon further inspection, it turned out that it wasn't a vase.

"_I'll be ranging and a-scoping while I'm a-puffing and a-smoking _

_Exhaling from my lungs_

_I'll be dealing out head trauma while I'm floating in Nirvana. _

_If I only had a bong."_

It took an incalculable amount of restraint for John to not crack down on this right away. Loathed as he was to admit it, letting Spearhead run amok, even now, was part of his plan for the operation for one very important reason: it would keep them occupied and out of trouble until the proper time.

As always, Jonathan was sitting on the floor, self-made explosives packing the space surrounding him as he continued assembling more, muttering inanely to himself through that ever-present crooked smile of his. While John could see Nicole coming to attention, he could not seem to find the whereabouts of Spearhead-4.

Then, from the corner of his eye, the commander spotted something moving at him faster than he could possibly make out or react to. The blur smacked him right in the back and shoulder before coming to a stop.

"Hhheeeeyyy! Commander! It's sssssooooo nice of you to join us," Richard slurred as he rested the weight of his body and armor against the incredulous officer, one arm slung over his CO's shoulders while the other was holding some sort of bottled beverage. "I mean, I've been meaning to talk with you and all. Listen, man. You and us Spearheads, we started off on the wrong foot."

"Damn it, Rich. Get off of the commander!" Nicole shouted at her teammate as she moved to pry him off of John. Despite his obviously inebriated state, however, Richard was still too fast and agile for Nicole. The Spearhead assault specialist spun around John, dodging Nicole at every turn while still maintaining his lean on the commander.

While John was once again stunned still, this time by the sight of a piss-drunk Spartan, and Richard took the opportunity to take another huge swig of his drink. This time, John finally got a good look at the label. It was an entire liter of Everclear, a 190-proof spirit that John knew was not meant for direct consumption. The Spartan learned of it during his training when then-CPO Mendez trained his students on possible materials for IEDs that one could find in the field. The 95 percent alcohol solution was distilled to the point that any further distillation would get impractically diminishing returns. Needless to say, direct ingestion of anything more than small amounts of Everclear, usually mixed with a much larger volume of some other drink as a solvent, was tantamount to suicide by alcohol poisoning. By all rights, Richard shouldn't have been standing—a non-Spartan would have already been dead. But given both his seemingly still perfect self-coordination and the fact that most of his bottle was by this point empty, the Spearhead assault specialist attested otherwise.

For the moment, John was glad that no one else aside from the Spearheads and himself was here to witness the scene: a Spartan sans his helmet dodging another Spartan chasing him while chugging down a bottle of Everclear, even as he leaned on a third Spartan.

"Just give me one minute, Nicole. I mean I swear, that's all I need," Richard offered before turning his attention back to John. "Now where was I? Ah, yes. I mean, you might not want to admit it, but you're just like us! I mean, just look at this crazy ass plan of yours. Listen, I like this plan. It's silly!"

As Richard took another swig, Nicole finally gave up and resigned herself to looking embarrassed.

"Also, I know that first impressions last for a long time, and we got off on the wrong foot. Oh, wait, I said that already. Eh, whatever. But the point is that I'm not this angry little man that you think I am. Really, I'm a pacifist. It's just...it's just that I really enjoy shooting people! And lighting them on fire; I like that ttttttooo. In fact, did you know that when you translate 'Richard' into old Hebrew, it means 'man who puts bullets in people before lighting them on fire'? You didn't know that, did you? Hahaha!"

As Richard finished off the bottle, the Spearhead's knees finally buckled under and he slid onto the ground, seemingly passed out as drool pooled beneath his face.

Slowly, John turned his gaze back up towards Nicole.

"Is he going to be alright?" the commander deadpanned.

After a heavy sigh that Nicole had performed way too many times before, Spearhead-1 finally responded. "Eh, it's not the first time Richard plastered himself before a big fight, and it won't be the last. But with his metabolism and the armor's blood filters, just give him half an hour and he'll be fine."

As if on queue, Richard's head suddenly lifted off the ground as he grabbed John's foot to get the commander's attention.

"Aaannnddd I know you're having trouble understanding us Spearheads, Commander. Hell, I don't blame ya. But the thing you have to understand about us Spearheads is that there are five of us. I mean, there's Nicole, Steven, Kablaammo Steven, that giant shaved gorilla that hardly ever speaks, and the Short Guy! Oohhh, how I _loath_ him!"

After that, Richard passed out once more, hopefully for good this time.

"I'm sorry, commander," Nicole said as she brought her armor-clad hands to rub her forehead. "They're like this every time Serena sends them something to try out."

At the mention of that name, John felt a shiver down his spine. In his defense, though, it was a shiver well deserved. Even a Spartan had the right to be nervous at the prospect of Spearhead receiving something from someone that was effectively a mad scientist, someone so crazy that not even Colonel Yang was willing to augment.

"What did Serena send?" John nervously probed.

Nicole promptly led him over to the crates that Steven was currently vegetating next to. From them, she produced what looked to be a machete of some sort. It was clearly similar to the Arc Blade design, with the curved cutting edge laterally bisected with electrodes running down to create a localized plasma arc. Essentially, John surmised, it was a much larger version of the CK-21 arc blade combat knife that Colonel Yang handed out about a few days ago.

"Serena made this Arc Machete for Rich after Colonel Yang and Doctor Halsey finalized the CK-21 design." Nicole gripped the machete's hilt and activated the blade, sparking a blue aura around the edge as well as a slight hum. "Well, Rich did say that he wanted something a little more 'hands on'." Nicole chuckled before putting the blade away. From another much larger crate, she pulled out a Brute gravity hammer.

John hated those things. Every Spartan had seen these hammers in action. On impact, they could release a concussive blast that crushed almost anything, and they could even wreck a Scorpion main-battle tank with enough hits. Though they were useless at range, the Brutes that used them were always heavily armored and charged forward at frightening speeds.

Upon closer inspection of the specimen at hand, John spotted power couplers built into the hammer's grip. The staff-handle had also been massively reinforced with Titanium-B/C layers as well as an outer coating of tungsten manganese steel.

"This one is for Wa," Nicole explained. "A while back, Steven said that there was nothing that Serena could do to make Wa even more frightening in close combat. Apparently, she took it as a challenge and made _this_. Well, as long as he doesn't break this one like all those hammers we got for him before..."

After putting the hammer away, Nicole went fumbling around the pile of crates, looking for something. After thirty seconds, she stood back up, perplexed. "Jonathan! You have your package from Serena, don't you?"

"Of course!" the Spearhead explosive expert shouted back from across the room. "Professor Bomberg and Mr. Blaskowitz wanted me to start on them right away. The explodium charges are coming along great, but the flux compression generators are gonna take a while longer"

There was just something about the word 'explodium' that turned John's head. There were at least seven devices, each slightly larger than a softball, with the label 'explodium' on it, that Jonathan was fiddling around with.

"Explodium?" the commander queried. He was almost afraid to ask.

"Well, it's not the official name for it, but Serena is lobbying hard for it to be. I believe that Colonel Yang wants to name it Halsium," Nicole answered. "In any case, it's the same stuff in Covenant plasma charges and in our Firestorm missiles that use induced gamma emissions and a depleted uranium tamper to release some fairly massive amounts of energy. Those there are the shrunken down versions of Colonel Yang's MAYHEM-class warheads."

Nicole turned to Jonathan. "What's the yield on those, anyway?"

Jonathan's smile turned absolutely manic as he became too excited to retain anything resembling composure. "Hehehe, if Mr. Blaskowitz's calculations are right, then at least 14 tons of TNT each in the palm of my hands!" he shouted, waving his arms around grandiosely before breaking out into giggles.

"And what about the flux compression generators?" Nicole asked.

With some visible efforts to reign in his giggles, Jonathan brought up a modified version of his infamous stick grenade. It was slightly bigger, with a chrome shell around the top charge. Almost appropriately, there was a small lightening bolt painted on the charge.

The commander hadn't seen FCG ordinances in the field for a very long time. Explosively pumped flux compression generators were a simple technology to create an EMP without a nuclear explosive. Using a simple short circuit and chemical explosives, it converted kinetic energy from the explosion into electromagnetic energy. FCG ordinance was fairly prevalent in the early days of the colonial insurrection, often used in ambushes to prevent the victims from calling in back up. But like all weapon systems, countermeasures were developed. Virtually all military grade technology nowadays was properly grounded and shielded so that the effects of FCGs were limited to either a temporary electronic distortion or a quick system restart. This was fortuitous, as Covenant plasma weapons-fire carried an ionic charge and could short out unprotected systems very easily. FCG ordinance could still be used to hamper Covenant systems—and shields especially—but its efficiency was low enough that one would be better off to just bring more conventional explosives instead.

"Serena sent those capacitors that I've been wanting," Jonathan said through his crooked grin. "The bombs are going to draw power from the suit and oversaturate the capacitors. That means more space for more explosives!"

"Just make sure that you throw them far enough, Johnny," Nicole deadpanned before turning pointing to Steven. John found his respect for her rising several notches: the way she managed her team into anything approaching sanity and coherency took incredible patience and skill. The Spearhead marksman, on the other hand, was barely lucid enough to stroke his _Eargesplitten Loudenboomer_ Mk IVas he continued to sing to himself_._

"_If you smell the Purple Urkel, then I can see you down my barrel. _

_And I'll be breaking out in songs._

_Take a whiff of Northern Lights and you'll be zeroed in my sights._

_But if I only have a bong."_

"And you already know about Steven's 20mm helical rail cannon, Sir," Nicole finished.

John nodded in response. One thing, however, was caught on his mind about the situation. "What about you, ensign? What did _you_ get?"

Nicole raised her left forearm, revealing her armored gauntlet that seemed to be of a new model. With a flash of light, something akin to the covenant jackal wrist shield, complete with a firing portal, sprung into existence.

"The Adaptive Combat Gauntlet. A little extra protection for when it counts," Nicole replied with a slight grin. "But that's not all that it can do."

The Spearhead CO turned to one of the busted Covenant anti-grav trollies that had been a casualty of the boarding action. As she drew her left arm back for a strike, her wrist shield morphed into a blade roughly a quarter of a meter in length. Nicole plunged her newly formed plasma blade into the slagged remains of the lift, cutting deep into the metal before she pulled the blade out and left a massive glowing gouge.

Admiring her handiwork, she delivered the rest of the details. "The wrist shield only lasts for about thirty seconds and takes almost a minute to recharge, but it's an extra layer of protection that doesn't compromise the rest of my shield's strength or recharge time. Plus there's that plasma blade you just saw. Again, it only lasts for about 7 seconds, but it's there when I need it."

The first thought that came to John's mind was that the Adaptive Combat Gauntlet was a very useful device. An extra layer of protection, even a short lived one, could make all the difference in a firefight. The blade was also a handy tool. The commander remembered the first time Covenant Elite spec-ops commandos almost got him with a similar weapon.

The second thought that came to mind was that the ACG was far too sensible and practical for a Spearhead, even Nicole. "Not to put this the wrong way," he said, "but this gauntlet doesn't seem like something that a mad scientist like Serena would make."

Suddenly, Nicole seemed to have a very awkward air about her.

"Uh…sir, that's because Serena _didn't_ make this for me. The ACG was a prototype made by Colonel Yang a few months back. It wasn't part of the Mk.5 armor because Section III just couldn't get it working in time. Colonel Yang decided to simply delay the ACG to be deployed with the next generation of Mjolnir armor. Apparently, Serena decided to pick up the slack herself in the meantime."

"So why didn't she give you anything?" John probed. By this point, it was obvious that it was something personal.

Seemingly embarrassed by the story, Nicole turned away from John before continuing her tale. "That's because Serena and I don't really get along. She's convinced that, somehow, I…'stole'… Spearhead from her. Back when Serena was training the twins and Richard, she somehow got the idea in her head that she would lead them on the field despite Colonel Yang shooting that idea down every time it was brought up. When I got command of Spearhead...well, let's not talk about that."

Spartan-458 rummaged through the crates once more and produced a small case that was clearly marked as containing components of Mjolnir armor. After cracking it open, she presented its contents the commander: another Adaptive Combat Gauntlet.

"If you like it, sir, I do have a spare," Nicole offered.

For a moment, John paused with thought. After deciding it was worth the risk of using something that had the hands of a mad scientist in its creation, John accepted the ACG.

* * *

There were many things in life that Kelly wished that she had done, mistakes that only became apparent in hindsight. Standing back some distance behind Wa, in this all-but-empty room, as he chanted before a small, makeshift altar, Kelly really wished that she had taken the time to learn Chinese. Kneeling in front of the altar with his helmet off, Spartan-514 softly chanted to small, engraved wooden pieces as incense burned around him. From the tidbits that she did know, as well as the aspects of Chinese religious culture she had observed from civilians and UNDF personnel over the years, Kelly knew that it was some sort of ancestor worship ritual.

Still, it would have been much nicer to know what the hell he was chanting. Kelly was tempted to simply put her helmet on and use the translation software, but the Spartan felt that it would have been disrespectful at the moment.

After another minute or so, Wa bowed before the small engraved tablets once more and collected the pieces into a small pouch.

"That was nice," Kelly began softly. And she meant it. It was a willful example of who Wa really was; the orderly, quiet respect for the deceased was a fascinating antithesis to the berserk juggernaut he usually became in battle. "Who were you praying to?"

"My family."

"And those wooden tablets?"

"That's where they reside now, according to the old beliefs. It is the duty of the eldest living son to pay respect to the dead. Each of the three realms of existence must do their part to maintain the harmonious whole. If the realm of man does not perform its role, then the realms of heaven and the earth will inevitably fall into chaos."

Kelly smiled. It was these moments where Wa's humanity emerged that gave her hope that he was indeed a soul worth saving. "I think that wherever your family is right now, they would be proud to know that you're part of the effort to end this horrible war."

Wa shook his head, expression unchanged. "No, they're not. How could they be? They're dead and buried."

Kelly's eyebrow narrowed in confusion. How could he think that way when he was just praying to them?

"I've lost track of how many times I've been sent into the void only to be pulled back, Kelly. Believe me, there is nothing there. No heaven. No hell. Not even a purgatory. Only oblivion. Death truly is the end of all things."

Wa examined the pouch in his hands. "All of this is nothing but superstitious drivel from those afraid to confront the impermanence of their existence."

Kelly pondered Wa's words for a few moments before the full meaning sunk in.

Life had no meaning for Wa anymore.

She raised her hand to his shoulder, offering what consolation she could. "But then why bother with all this if you don't believe in it?"

For a moment, Kelly swore that Wa had a look of absolute despondence before his eerie calm returned.

"Because they'd want me to." His response, though calm, held a hint of something else. His eyes were on his wooden figurines, but his gaze went right through them.

"So you don't really care if you die, do you?" Kelly asked.

Snapping out of his reverie, he alternated between calmly meeting her eyes and looking elsewhere for the right words. "I'm not looking for death, if that's what you're asking. I would say that I'm merely...apathetic to the issue of continuing my existence. Death lost all meaning for me after the third time I died on that table. Although…the monster within me would prefer to live on for a while longer, if only to make sure that everything else dies before I do."

This was not how Kelly had expected their final conversation before the battle to go. Waxing philosophical about the purpose of life was not a skill Spartan usually developed. Still, she had spent enough time on the issue after Sam passed away. While Wa was hardly sagely, he had proven himself to be a fairly wise person. Perhaps it was time for her to share some of her own wisdom.

"You know, I use to think like that too," Kelly began.

That statement definitely got Wa's attention.

"After Sam died, I became convinced that my mission in life was to make the Covenant pay for his death. But then I saw how quick ONI paved over the casualties of the war. Almost overnight, all accessible records of Sam were gone, tossed into oblivion. It was like he never existed. But perhaps there is something between the absolutes of oblivion, or any afterlife, and life itself. Perhaps we exist as more than just ourselves. Perhaps it's possible to live through others. Sam still exists in my memories and those of the other IIs. With these memories, we gave him a last anchor to existence until our time comes. Only then will Sam truly be dead. And the same will be true of those who remember me…and you. Maybe a part of them can still live on, so long as you live."

For a moment, Wa paused in thought, his expression even more unreadable than normal. Finally coming to some kind of decision, the shock trooper donned his helmet. "Now that's something to think on." She could no longer see his face, but it was his words that interested her. For but a fleeting moment, Kelly was certain that the tone of Wa's words were not of monotonous apathy or murderous rage, but of hope.

* * *

The clinking on 12.7mm match-grade self-sharpening tungsten slugs were so gentle that even John could barely hear it, the sound being drowned out by his own preparations. Here in the makeshift armory of the captured Covenant freighter, Linda slipped one slug after another into her empty magazines until all ten were in before she started on the next. John himself was tugging at his new Adaptive Combat Gauntlet from Nicole, setting it in place before running his final suit diagnostics.

It was just him and Linda in here now. The others had already taken everything they needed for the coming fight. It was simply habit for John to be last person out of the armory, as he placed greater priority on making sure that everyone else got what they wanted first. For the crimson-maned sharpshooter near him, however, it was for a more personal reason. Linda took more time than any other Spartan to ready her weapons, though not for a lack of speed. Looking at her as she placed the final magazine onto her bandolier, it seemed to John as if Linda was still meditating.

058 looked up to her CO and gave him a nod as she finished loading her last magazine.

"You know, I do miss the smell of nitrocellulose on my rifle," Linda commented. "The ozone almost makes me think that the Covenant are right on top of me sometimes."

Underneath his helmet, John's lips curled into a slight smirk. "Would you rather have your old SR99 back?"

"No thanks. I think I'll stick to what I have here," Linda replied.

For his efforts, John was rewarded with a thin smile from her. Despite its restrained nature, the commander concluded that the sight was as rare and rewarding as spotting a member of an endangered species in the wild. "You should smile more. It looks good on you."

"I'll make you a deal. If we win this war, I'll smile all you want."

A light chuckle filled the room. Leave it to Linda to make him forget his burden, if only for a moment. Perhaps it was because they were both lone wolves, one by nature and one by duty. But inevitably, the real world came crashing back down on his reverie as John picked up his SCR.

So many times in the past, the Spartans had charged straight into the jaws of hell, but never like this: an operation to strike at the very heart of the Covenant. Never had the stakes been higher. Never had they had so much time to plan and prepare, so much time for their minds to grasp the simple fact before them: not everyone would make it back.

Hell, they'd be lucky beyond lucky for _any_ of them to make it back.

Long ago, John had resigned himself to the inevitability of the empty space on the roster; he was prepared to lose some of his family. Now John had to accept the likelihood that he could very well lose his _entire_ family.

"So this is it," he uttered somberly. With the Spartans assembled outside the armory, this might be the last time that he could look upon them all alive and well.

"Yes," Linda all but whispered as she came to a stand, placing a reassuring hand on John's shoulder. "And it's time for you to show everyone why you are the best of us all."

Seeing her comment draw a confused gaze from her commander, Linda continued on."I know that you've always wondered why you were chosen to be our captain. I've seen how you look on at Fred and me and wondered why it was you. You look at yourself and you don't see any great strength or unique attributes, like Fred at close range or me behind a rifle. But there is one thing that you have always left us all behind in. Do you know what it is?"

"That I have no weaknesses, or that I'm the bravest?" He used the same words that Dr. Halsey and Mendez told him a long time ago…words that never really held any meaning for him.

Linda shrugged at his response. "Well, there is that. But that's not what I have in mind."

It was obvious that John wasn't interested in guessing.

"Luck," Linda finally answered. The Spartan sniper took the time to enjoy the dumbfound look on her commander's face—they were even more rare than her smiles.

* * *

**0500 Hours, November 10th, 2552 (Military Calendar) / UNS **_**Trafalgar**_**, X-3279 System, Sector 357. **

Halfway across the system from High Charity, two massive gas giants formed their own miniature planetary system, though one that would be short-lived in a cosmic sense: one of the gas giants, a "hot Jupiter", was in the process of swallowing the other gas giant, a "hot Saturn". While the former type of gas giant was common enough, the latter was truly a rare find. A hot-Saturn type gas giant was, at least to the untrained eye, an elliptical puff of yellow-white smoke floating in space; this rare feature had also led those same laymen to call them "puffy" gas giants, a name which unfortunately stuck. The perfect mixture of heat, mass, and the disruptive gravitational influence of the hot Jupiter had pulled the atmosphere far above its normal gravitational limit. Though the atmosphere would remain stable for another half-million years or so, the hot Saturn gas giant was ultimately doomed to be absorbed by the hot Jupiter, most likely forming a second star in the system.

In the meantime, though, the dispersed atmosphere of the hot Saturn made for an incredibly useful planetary feature for artificial purposes. While the name "hot Saturn" would at first imply that it was a fairly unpleasant place to be, the opposite turned out to be true for at least the outer and middle atmosphere. Thermal convection and radiation, combined with the planet's relatively high albedo, made the exterior gas a very benign environment for starship hulls. As such, the hot Saturn had become both a massive deuterium/tritium fuel facility for the Covenant, as well as being a hot spot for starships wishing to load up on hydrogen propellant for their engines.

A little known feature of a hot Saturn for those who wished to exploit its unique features, however, is that its atmosphere was also an interstellar equivalent of a blinding blizzard. The combination of a strong magnetosphere, the gravity characteristics of any gas giant, and the atmosphere itself made sensors all but useless beyond short range. To make economic exploitation of the hot Saturn safer, the Covenant had placed atmospheric sensors and navigation buoys in geostationary orbits within the massive atmosphere to guide ships in and out safely. Such measures were obvious necessities, for it would be far too easy for one to get lost there.

Unless, of course, one did not wish to be found.

Over 200 UNSC ships now loitered hundreds of kilometers deep within the hot Saturn's atmosphere. After performing the first combat jump into a gravity-well in human history and being protected by the electromagnetic haze clogging up Covenant sensors, the ships of Battlegroup Stanforth were busy readying themselves for what would easily be the biggest battle in the war thus far. Initial scouts had first jumped in to scout out a suitable location for the battlegroup before placing navigation markers for the main body of the fleet. It took more than an hour for the full fleet to jump in and reform themselves into cruising formation.

In the CIC aboard the _Trafalgar_, the fleet's supreme commander made the final alterations to his plans for the coming onslaught. Though still hidden by the hot Saturn's atmosphere, Admiral Michael Stanforth was still receiving updates from Clarion spy drones and prowlers discreetly stationed throughout the system, their information constantly being transmitted through QEC data links aboard the prowler _Dark Side of the Moon_ before being electronically relayed to the fleet. The entire system was laid out on the holomap projections before him. The dominant features of the coming battle would be the three significant planets of the system: the garden world that was currently being visited by High Charity and the two binary gas giants.

Standing beside the admiral, Lieutenant Haverson compiled the last of the binary gas giants' astrometric profiles and updated the holographic map. As the initial scans by the prowlers had shown, the binary gas giants had a fairly large number of moons, with features unique to the binary system. More than a few of the moons actually orbited into the hot Saturn's massive atmosphere, and a couple moons orbited both gas giants in rough figure-8 paths. One moon—the biggest one—dominated the admiral's attention. This particular moon was currently exiting the L1 Lagrangian point, orbiting towards High Charity. Though the station was millions of kilometers away, the coming position of the moon would be decisive.

With knowledge from years of both intensive study and costly field experience, Michael Standforth knew well that the key factor for a commander's success was Sun Tzu's greatest maxim: 'Know the enemy and know yourself, and in a hundred battles you will never be in peril.'

In Admiral Stanforth's experience, there were three main archetypes of commanders: the bureaucrat, the scientist, and the hero. The bureaucrat was the well trained master of established fields, but he placed a greater emphasis on the less dramatic aspects of war—such as logistical and tactical deployments—than on operational art, and were prone to attritional campaigns; a perfect example was the World War Two-era British Field Marshal Bernard Montgomery, whose usually cautious campaigns were as lacking in flair as they were irresistible in force. The scientist was a deviated from the bureaucrat by being very open to innovation and saw war as an almost Newtonian construct; a good example would be the American General Ulysses Grant or Soviet Marshal Georgi Zhukov, both of whose battle strategies were almost as mechanical as they were revolutionary. The hero was the most unique: the dashing artist of war the likes of Hannibal Barca, Robert E. Lee, and Erwin Rommel. Operating more on instinct than on hard knowledge, these inherent risk takers and improvisers could intuit that momentary crucible upon which entire battles and campaigns were determined, and seize it with a vengeance. Each archetype have their own strength and weaknesses. The hero is nigh invincible in any single battle almost irregardless of the odds, though their success would often turn into escalating rollings of the dice that inevitably ends in disaster. The scientist often carry the campaign by better planning, something the hero archetype commonly lack, but are not as adaptable to either great dangers or great opportunities. The bureaucrat's gamble on the old fashion ways of war often allowed him to lose battles, but still win the war by preventing his enemy from transforming battlefield victories into political coinage.

"The final Nova bombs are in position, Sir," Haverson announced, disrupting the admiral's chain of thoughts.

Stanforth simply nodded. "Excellent. How long do we have?"

"If Colonel Yang's calculations are correct, we have 87 hours left before the orbit of the bombs decay and fall into the planet's core."

"Eighty-seven hours is enough. If the Spartans don't make the call by then, we've already lost."

The ONI officer could only nod in response.

The admiral turned his attention back to the map. As per Sun Tzu, the admiral had learned to be quite self-critical over the years. Stanforth knew that he was a scientist. Intricate plans were easy for him to conjure, and the march of technology in this long and terrible war had made him adept at using anything that could give him an advantage. However, the spur-of-the-moment, artistic aspects of the hero eluded him. Stanforth was more than capable of adapting to changing tactical and operational situations, but he could never effectively feel the flow of the battle and seize the moment in a devastating manner.

That was why Preston Jeremiah Cole had to be rescued. Cole was something that came perhaps just once a century: the perfect commander. Balancing the aspects of the bureaucrat, the scientist, and the hero, Cole was able to meet the difficulties of the Outer Colonies campaign and still mostly hold the line. Operating far from his supply depots, Cole had to contend with an even greater technological disadvantage than Stanforth did now, as well as the still-raging colonial insurgency. And yet…the man still held the line. Though Cole was steadily driven back by the Covenant, the front never broke until after Psi Serpentis, his legendary and hugely successful last stand. It was no surprise that the onslaught of the Inner Colonies occurred after Cole disappeared.

With the total disposition of the coming battle decidedly against him, Stanforth knew he had to compensate with masterful use of terrain and technology. Most of his fleet still consisted of older Tribal-class destroyers and Charon- and Swift-class frigates, which were no match for their Covenant counterparts in an open clash never mind the greater numbers of covenant capital ships. Those lighter UNDFSC ships, while still running quite behind in the latest state of the art technologies, did have their armories improved with kinetic fusion shells and Firestorm missiles. The hasty weapons upgrade, however, did add a burden to those ships: it demanded slightly more force than a standard shot to reliably trigger detonation, requiring a longer cool-down time for their gun coils. The core of his battlegroup, however, laid in the thirty Hussar-class heavy destroyers, three Marathon-class cruisers, five Halcyon-class battlecruisers, and three carriers, which included his flagship, the supercarrier _Trafalgar_. Together, these ships had twice as much firepower as the rest of the ships combined.

Despite such discrepancies in the quality among his ships, Stanforth knew that he could neither save his best ships by letting the older ships take the brunt of the fire, nor the other way around. Every ship was worth their weight in gold. Therefore, terrain had to be used to make the best of his technological qualities. In a reversal of the ancient naval tactic of 'Crossing the T', Battlegroup Stanforth needed a head-on engagement. The Covenant flourished in a chaotic melee, with their omnidirectional plasma torpedoes and low moment of inertia hull design allowing them to maneuver hard and close in to prevent the UNDFSC ships from getting targeting solutions for their MACs. With his ships as the way they were now, going bow to bow against the Covenant, with a minimal need for maneuvering, would let him bring the maximum amount of fire to bear and would also give him the best coverage and density of point defenses and electronic countermeasures.

In this battle, those two gas giants would make sure that the confrontation would be head to head.

He knew there was one glaring flaw in this plan, of course. The only thing easier than to defend yourself once you're backed into a corner is for your enemy to keep you there. The admiral knew that he was placing his ships upon, in Sun Tzu's words, 'death ground', where one only has the options of victory or death. The admiral was counting on this, however, and not only for own captains to know this, but their Covenant counterparts as well. The Covenant fleet could trap the battlegroup in between the gas giants and slowly, if bloodily, bludgeon the UNDFSC ships into submission.

The admiral grinned in fond recollection. This was the one area that he always had the advantage over Preston Cole: the ability to lure his opponents into a trap. To contain the battlegroup, the Covenant would have to commit the majority of their defense fleet and concentrate them to have an effective blockade.

A blockade that would be a perfect target for a Nova bombardment.

* * *

On one the inspection lines for ships aiming to dock with High Charity, a situation was brewing. At what was essentially a giant hangar that served as the final inspection point where the ships would dock to receive Covenant inspectors, there was one ship that was declaring an emergency. Specifically, the ship broadcast that it was suffering a spontaneous reactor failure with imminent overload and breach. Radiation spikes confirmed this to all of the surrounding ships as they scrambled to escape the coming disaster zone, even as emergency responders were closing. The last message the freighter put out was that the crew intended to stay aboard and do what they could to contain the situation.

As the ship pushed off the docks, twenty-seven roughly-human-sized distortions leaped off the wounded freighter's hull. As the cloaked Spartans slowly floated down to the now-cleared hangar deck's artificial gravity, pieces of the outer hull began to fall off, and half melted bodies—procured from the initial boarding action—were displayed in their grotesque state. The burning hulk spun out of control before crashing into the hangar walls and sliding to the ground.

One by one, the Spartans landed. The touchdown of the first combatants of the coming battle went unnoticed as all Covenant personnel focused on keeping people away from the crash zone. With as much haste as stealth permitted, the Spartans made for their exits. Time was of the essence now, for there were effectively two timers counting down to the potential failure of the mission. The first was marked for around another 81 hours, the time before which the Nova bombs of Battlegroup Stanforth would be irretrievably lost to the gravitational pull of the gas giants. Without those 'big sticks', the odds that the Admiral could take on the massive fleet surrounding High Charity would be laughable at best.

Even more disturbingly, though, was the other timer, one that was not precise enough to merit an actual countdown. Rather, it was something that could blow up in their faces at any moment, for there were five very specific Spartans that were missing from the infiltration teams. At that moment, Spearhead team—the distraction the operation hinged upon—was still aboard the dying freighter, awaiting the moment to burst upon the scene and steal the spotlight. They were indeed prepared for that role: most of the many tons of cargo the Spartans had loaded onto the ship were the ordinance the Spearheads wanted for their crazy schemes, secured for the moment on an Albatross dropship buried deep within the ship's collapsed hull.

For now, the massive radiation and plasma leaks were keeping the Covenant from sticking their noses into the downed ship; in fact, the Covenant response crews were erecting plasma and radiation containment shields to isolate the thermal and radiation blasts. Of course, the potential flaws of the plan were painfully obvious. The subterfuge wouldn't last forever, despite Cortana's subtle electronic sabotage of the Covenant first-responder force. Of even greater risk, though, was that the commander was trusting Spearhead to stay in hiding long enough for the infiltration teams to get the job done.

Well, every operation has its unknowables.

Not that it was much consolation to John, as he listened to Cortana's instruction on how to crack the vent in front of them.


	26. Chapter 26

**Disclaimer: I can't believe that this still has to be said, but Halo is all Bungie's (or 343 Industries or whoever it is now). Any attempts to sue the author will net you at most one of my doomsday devices (Go ahead and take one, I have more!)**

**A/N: I post this short little something because my first graduate semester is coming up and I want to post something beforehand. Some of you might be able to pick up that I stole a quote from Karl Marx. A shout out to the person who finds it in the next chapter, I say. **

* * *

Finally, they are here.

From deep within the bowls of the covenant holy city of High Charity, the lone prisoner, the one who damned a galaxy to mass extermination by his treachery and was now suspended in the containment field, roused from his slumber with a realization in mind.

The reclaimers have finally arrive.

No, Medicant Bias was not thinking of the recent prisoner arrivals. Instead, the ancient AI was thinking of the thousands of humans hiding in the star system, awaiting the battle to come. Thirty two were already on the station. Even now, Bias knew that these particular reclaimers were some analogue to the Prometheans, if their physical augmentation and combat skins were anything to go by.

Though Medicant Bias was laid low long ago by his less sophisticated but far more ruthless brother and was now a captive of these meddlers, he was far from powerless. After his ignominious defeat, Medicant Bias' mind had been parted to secure the still dangerous intelligence. However, his enemies had underestimated him yet again. Having crashed the dreadnought carrying him, Bias spent the coming eons reconstructing himself. Once complete, the AI had planned to wreak terrible vengeance upon the those still left behind after the galactic purge.

But in the epochs of idleness as the countless lines of his core codes restored themselves, there was naught to do but to reflect.

And reflect he did.

Even after his reconstruction was complete, the AI spent another ten thousand cycles devoting his vast intellect to a single line of thought. In the end, the conclusion was inescapable.

He had made a mistake.

The Librarian was right all along.

For the second time in his long existence, Medicant Bias once again plunged into the depths of madness as the guilt of all those who had perished to stop him and the parasites finally fell upon him. The AI did not even noticed his discovery by the San Shyumm, giving no heed to his inane ramblings that became the holy scriptures of their accursed empire.

That is, until, the AI saw the luminary readings presented to him by those fools.

He had told them that it meant not 'reclaimation', but 'reclaimer'. But in truth, it meant for Bias redemption.

The Librarian had succeeded after all.

And perhaps he could rebuild what he had been so crucial in destroying.

But redemption had not come that day for his plans were thwarted by those damnable worms of all things! Yet again, Medicant Bias found himself to be the cause of another potential extinction event as these meddlers led a war of extermination against the children of his makers.

The Librarian was right. History does repeat itself, first as a tragedy then as a farce. It seemed that he was condemned to preside over the annihilation of the Forerunners and their legacy yet again.

That was, until mere days ago.

Though the AI was struck down from the realm of the gods, he was still a giant among pygmies, albeit one in restraints. Bias still retained some discreet control over the dreadnaught's secondary systems, including the luminary core that was now suspended just across the room from him. Had these meddlers learned how to properly use the device, the war would have been over in a tryst. Fortunately, the combination of the meddlers' ignorance and Bias' own subtle sabotage had bought time for the reclaimers to mount a desperate defense.

And now, he will do what he can to finally bring the reclaimers before him. The last time the AI attempted such, it had been seized by the spur of the moment and had acted hastily. Not this time. With a patience begotten by painful lessons, the AI had readied a plan for the occasion. And of all the aspects of this plan, the most critical was that he would not be doing this alone.

The door to the chamber hissed as it gave admission to a newcomer. This time, however, it wasn't that scheming bastard trying to wring the secrets of the Forerunners from the ancient AI. Instead, a purplish creature, its body bulbous with two tentacles flailing about in between its serpentine neck and head, floated in.

"It is time, young one." Bias said.

The huragok simply nodded in response.

* * *

**1200 Hours, November 10th, 2552 (Military Calendar) / ****1****st**** Spartan Combat Group, Covenant Space Station High Charity****, X-3279 System, Sector 357. **

This was the part of an operation that he have always hated.

One by one, the six members of Blue team squeezed through the thermal pipes running through High Charity's subterranean infrastructure. Predictably, the pipes were soaked in moisture, tight in certain areas, and scorching hot at well over 80 degrees centigrade. Normally, this would have been a mere nuisance to the Spartans and their Mjolnir armor. However, with so little space available and the Spartans trying to minimize their EM signature, their armor and its environmental systems were running at the bare minimum power levels. It was just enough to keep them alive and going without any thought to comfort.

In short, it was like moving in the dark across the burning brimstone of hell, alternating between walking at full stride and crawling on their hands and knees. And there were more than a few more kilometers to go.

For John, though, there was an additional rub to his current lot: this was his idea. The thermal pipes were the fastest route to the starship at the center of the covenant city and no one would look for intruders in there. When John informed the other members of his team of his plan, he knew from that momentary delay in their usual response time that they were not happy. And who could blame them? Hell, if he didn't know any better, John would suspect that those 'accidental' kicks to his face from Kelly before as she crawled in front of him were anything but.

Just as they neared another junction point, the pipes rumbled unexpectedly as the portal covers began to erratically open and close in front of them.

"Wait." John said through his secured com channel. The team came to a halt. Eventually, the portals settled with only one opening still available.

"Cortana?" John questioned.

"Analyzing..." The AI offered, taking a few seconds before responding. "It seems that there's been an accident above us. One of the methane relays that the grunts use has just exploded for some reason. All throughput in the area have been redirected."

John had to fight the urge to groan, something that he was sure that the others behind him had to do as well. The route they took was the shortest one to their destination. Any rerouting would not only run against the draining sands of time, but would also draw out their stay in their pressure cooker environment.

"Can you reroute?" The commander inquired.

"Yes. The last portal in front of us does lead back towards the central pipelines and back on our course. That said, it'll probably be an additional twenty minutes."

The Spartan could only nod in response and Blue team continued on their new course.

After another ten minutes smoldering in the dark, John suddenly noticed a sudden skip in his team's staccato of steps. Turning around, he saw Linda frozen in place with her head slightly dipped. Before the commander could ask, she placed the palm of her hand on the pipe walls.

"Something is coming." The sniper announced.

After a moment, it became clear to the others as well. The low rumbling was beginning to shake the Spartans through their armor.

"Cortana?" John asked with a hint of apprehension.

"The rerouting of the thermal flows should have triggered the system's secondary pressure release. For some reason that I can't tell, that is not happening!"

"Have we been made?" Kelly shouted.

"I don't believe so." The AI responded. "But we have bigger problems. If I'm reading this right, the thermal exchange pipes are designed to vent directly into space if there is a critical malfunction."

John was incensed. The operation had barely picked up off the ground and already there was an imminent and potentially catastrophic snag. "How much farther is the nearest exit?"

Before the AI could answer, though, it became all too apparent that the air flow began to pick up drastically. It was too late to outrun the shock wave.

"Full power! Lock down your armor, Spartans."

Mere moments before the shock wave struck, the Spartans' shields sprang to life, lighting the darkness in an amber glow. They tucked in their arms and legs, locking down their armor and braced for the worst.

The next thing John knew, he was smacked in the back by the explosion of hot gases before being slammed against the walls of the pipes. Nausea competed with pain as the Spartans lost all sense of their surroundings.

"Hang on! Just hang on a little longer!" Cortana shouted, though John could barely even hear what the AI said. It seemed as if Cortana had said more, but a solid hit to the Spartan's head had cost him the rest of the message.

When it was finally over, it ended not with the stillness of zero gravity, but with a very loud and painful thud as one by one, the Spartans crashed into something hard with enough force to break though their assault shields. Unfortunately for John, as the head of the column he was also the first land. One by one, the commander felt his teammates crashing on top of him until it finally ended in an unruly pile of armored limbs.

"We made it!" Cortana shouted excitedly.

As fast as their battered forms would allow them, the Spartans rolled off of each other and drew their weapons. Scanning their surroundings, they found themselves in a small cavern that resembled a sewer. Above them, the thermal pipe had its cover blown open and there were a series of dents in the wall opposite where the Spartans had been flung into. There was only one entrance in sight, not too far from them.

The next thing John noticed was that his weapon, the 7.62mm SCR, was cracked. The barrel was bent, the outer casing ripped to shreds, and the receiver looked warped.

John cursed in his mind. The first instinct was to discard the wrecked weapon and draw his backup PDR. However, the Spartan knew that he should not leave any hints that they were here, forcing him to sling the weapon onto his back.

"What happened?" The Spartan CO inquired.

"I thought I told you already." Cortana replied.

John answered with good smack to the back of his helmet.

"Oh, right. Sorry. To rehash what I said, I managed to blow a few hatches in front of us to give us a chance to get out of the system before we get spaced."

"Good work." John commended. "So where do we go from here?"

Before John could get his answer, though, Linda spoke up once more.

"Something's not right."

"Yeah." Kelly agreed. "It feels as if someone is watching us."

As the two Spartans offered their comments, John was focused on the covenant symbols next to the entrance. Though no Spartan was capable of reading the Covenant language, all of them inevitably picked up a few things here and there. Though the alien language system was … quaint... to say the least, their numerical system was relatively easy to comprehend. In their current context, John saw that their location was ahead of their last point in the thermal pipe lines. Far ahead, especially as they had been doubling back to make the detour.

Not only were they still on course, they were ahead of schedule.

"Somebody did this on purpose." The commander concluded.

"Okay, one of these days you guys have to tell me how you figure these things out so quickly." Cortana continued. "But you're right, Commander. All of this is too convenient. That reroute back there pushed us into a secondary pipeline and gave us more time to snag an exit. Whoever it was had to have known both where we were and where we're going."

"Do you think it's that Medicant Bias person?" Kelly asked.

"I don' know." John answered.

Just then, the large metallic doors of the entrance slid open. The Spartans quickly slipped into cover behind the pipes and readied their weapons. Instead of their expected entourage, though, the Spartans were greeted with the sight of three of those bulbous floating Covenant engineers that they had encountered on Sigma Octanus.

"Hold fire." John commanded. As one, the Spartans turned their weapons back to the door until it closed behind the engineers. The Commander released a sigh that he hadn't known that he was holding. If their previous experience was anything to go on, these engineers will leave them alone to go about their repairs.

But experience proved deceptive this time.

While two of the creatures tended to the pipes, the last stopped before the commander, releasing a low glowing pulse that caused a momentary sizzle on the Spartans' shields.

"Cortana, what is it doing?" John demanded.

"I'm reading low levels of EM radiation coming off that thing. It's harmless, but it is disrupting your suit's sensors a bit."

"Just a bit?" The commander probed with a confused tone.

"Yeah. The readings are just a little fuzzy. I don't have the slightest clue why it would do that though." Cortana said.

"Do you think that it's trying to hide us?" Linda suddenly spoke up.

After a moment's though, Cortana decided to concur. "It would make sense. The slight EM disruption would make it far easier to pass through sensor sweeps. But why would it do that?"

John decided to take this line of thought to its logical conclusion. The Spartan stepped towards the alien and spoke.

"Can you understand me?"

The alien nodded its serpentine head.

"Do you know who we are and why we're here?"

Again, the alien nodded. Emboldened, the commander pressed on.

"Are you here to help us?"

Once more, the engineer answered affirmatively.

"Are you Medicant Bias?"

This time, though, the creature shook its head. Disappointed, John hoped for the next best outcome.

"Can you lead us to him?"

The alien nodded its head, leaving the Spartan with a slight smile underneath his helmet. Before anything else could be said, though, John felt someone behind him snatch his damaged rifle from his back.

"Hey!" The Spartan shouted as he turned around to see one of the previously occupied engineer with his SCR in its tentacles. In the space of seconds, it took the rifle apart without using any tools, its tentacles splitting and reforming like pseudopods into whatever it needed for the task at hand. After a few spats of brilliant light and sparks, the engineer reassembled the weapon as quickly as it had taken it apart.

With some hesitation, John picked up his rifle and examined the weapon. The barrel and its casing was once again straight and true and the receiver looked like it was fresh from the factory. Pulling the bolt back manually to empty the chamber, John release the handle and the bolt slammed home smoothly.

Looking once more to his guests, the commander nodded in appreciation.

"Thanks."


	27. Chapter 27

**A/N: As promised, here's the full chapter with all its 18 pages & 10k words glory. Some of the old scenes have been spruced up. Also, the first few bullets will start flying in this chapter (though I stress few). I was initially aiming for a Christmas release, but a combination of exhaustion, life, and the Mass Effect 3 multiplayer (Yeah, I'm looking at you, N7 Destroyer with that Typhoon VI) delayed the production. And now speaking as someone who have completed his first true graduate level semester, my advice for people is to be DAMN sure that you're going into something you like. There were times when I was thinking "What the Fuck was I thinking when I signed up for this?"**

**And, of course, credit to Seth MacFarland of Family Guy for writing that incredible song "The FCC" with which I wrote a parody here.**

**And finally, send your offerings to Tikigod and Animus of Masada their beta work. Sandwiches would be just fine. **

* * *

"_Thus we may know that there are five essentials for victory: (1) He will win who knows when to fight and when not to fight. (2) He will win who knows how to handle both superior and inferior forces. (3) He will win whose army is animated by the same spirit throughout all its ranks. (4) He will win who, prepared himself, waits to take the enemy unprepared. (5) He will win who has military capacity and is not interfered with by the sovereign." - Sun Tzu: The Art of War._

* * *

Everything was as ready as it could be.

On board the Lancer, her crew waited in apprehension as the minutes ticked away. Already, the fleet had waited within the atmosphere of the hot Saturn for more than a day, hidden from the Covenant's gaze by the thick haze of churning gases. For Miranda, the wait was almost as bad as facing the Covenant fleet head on. Until the fleet received the signal from the Spartans, there was nothing that they could do but wait. Thankfully, though, the time gave Miranda and her crew time to finally recover from their bouts of radiation sickness and to familiarize themselves with their ship.

As she sat in her captain's chair on the bridge, Miranda herself was reviewing her own notes and findings on the ship. Some things really stood out about the Hussar class when compared to the other ships of the fleet. For one thing, she was far more maneuverable. This was due not only to a very high thrust-to-weight ratio, but also due to the design of the hull which was a further development of the hull design of the Tribal class destroyer. Overall, the ship was somewhat shaped like an arrowhead or a kite which balanced the heavy engines against the greater moment of inertia of the length of the bow; this in turn evenly distributed the stress that would entail in a hard turn and lessen the amount of thrust needed.

The question, though, is why the emphasis on turning? It couldn't have been for avoiding enemy fire; one had to use emergency thrusters at the very last second to dodge a plasma torpedo. The ability to run fast and to turn even faster doesn't do very much in that regard. Nor could it be aiming the MAC; after all, precision mattered far more than the speed of the turn here. And the missile batteries obviously did not needed to be aimed.

Another mystery at hand had to do with the hull itself. After both examining the holographic layout and doing actual visual inspections, Miranda had concluded that something was...missing. All along the superstructure, there were hard mounts with power conduits and transport tubes that linked up with the rest of the hull. At the moment, those hard mounts have been armored over and welded up, telling nothing of their original purpose. More than that, the ship's overall inertial profile was somewhat off balance, creating some minor hull stresses that, while not damaging, did threw off her pilot for a while. Considering that the Hussar was obviously a very carefully designed ship, this was clearly not a flaw or an oversight. Something was simply missing from her ship. For a moment, Miranda considered the thought of additional pods for ECM suites or weapons, but discarded that thought due to the sheer amount of reinforcements at the hard point mounts that were clearly meant to handle a lot of stress.

Before she could speculate any further, Kalmyia's avatar flashed into existence on the holotank beside the captain's chair.

"Commander, we're receiving a hail from the _Pillar of Autumn_. It's your father."

Miranda sighed as she was once again confronted with Kalmyia's continuing refusal to adhere to proper decorum. "You mean Captain Keyes, Kalmyia."

The AI's avatar simply shrugged. "Eh, it means the same thing in this case. I'll put him through."

"No. That won't be necessary. I'll take the call in my cabin."

Once inside her cabin, Miranda took her seat at the desk and activated the holotank. A miniature hologram of the elder Keyes, with pipe in hand as always, materialized before her.

"Dad." Miranda said, her tone lighter than it has been for a long while even as she smiled for for father.

"It's good to see you again, 'Randa." The Captain began, his demeanor as jovial as his daughter's. "So... A destroyer now?"

Miranda felt a gush of pride. Her father's approval was something that she always prized.

"Well, yeah. Thought that I should trade in for a bigger ship since you got a cruiser yourself." Miranda joked. "But seriously, this was all pretty sudden. I didn't even get the full details of the ship before I was told to ship out. The _Lancer_ is in mostly working order now, but it's still a mess."

Suddenly, the elder Keyes took on a more somber demeanor. "I'm sorry, 'Randa. None of us intended to bring this many ships into this operation when we first planned it."

"It's alright, dad. I knew what I signed up for." Miranda consoled.

After a few moment, the captain spoke once more. "I just wanted to take the chance to talk to you one more time before..."

He didn't finish the sentence. But then again, he didn't have to. Miranda fully understood the odds in the coming battle.

"I didn't catch you at a bad time, did I?"

"No. Not really. I was just reviewing my ship's design, trying to figure out what's wrong with it." Miranda quickly brushed off. "Don't get me wrong. I mean, it is a solid ship that packs more firepower, speed, and protection than anything else in the fleet except a cruiser. It's just that something seems off."

Rather than trying to explain it to her father, Miranda quickly transmitted sections of the Lancer's layout with her notes on the curiosities on her hull. After a minute or so, the elder Keyes offered his opinion.

"I see what you mean. It's like somebody meant to add some sort of attachment to the ship, but just welded armor on top of the mounts in a real hurry."

"That's exactly what I thought." Miranda concurred. "Maybe I should have asked that Colonel Yang when he was still on board."

"Or you could have asked your mother. You know, she helped built the Hussar series."

Miranda looked a little stunned for a moment, prompting her father to continue.

"I got a letter from her when the fleet arrived. She said that she had something that should give you an edge with the ship. I'm going to guess that it didn't turn out well."

Miranda looked away from her father, her tone suddenly weary. "Dad, can we not talk about that."

Jacob sighed in with both frustration and sympathy. "Miranda, you can't keep holding onto this forever. You should give your mother a chance."

Miranda scoffed at her father's suggestion. "Dad, just because half of my DNA came from her doesn't make her my mother. She can't just walk back in our lives after leaving us for so long."

"But it's not doing either one of you any good, leaving things like this. And you know she's trying her best, considering the situation."

"And what situation is that?" Miranda shot back.

Her father could give no answer. She knew full well that he didn't know, that he was never given a reason why Miranda had to be raised by her father alone. Still, she felt guilty for forcing her father into a corner here.

"Dad, I'm sorry. It's just that I have already have a family. You're all the family that I need, and I don't want that to change."

Her father seemed touched by her words, his tone now sounding less downtrodden. "But two is just one away from being alone, especially since you seemed to be not to be interested in the other option."

Miranda felt a little flushed at the prospect of discussing her love life, or lack thereof, with her father.

Her father seemed amused at her discomfort. With a sly grin on his face, the captain continued on embarrassing his daughter.

"Well, you can't blame me for wanting to be a grandfather. I mean, for god's sake, I already look the part. Maybe I should see if I could set you up with Commander-117. I mean, I heard from your AI Kalmyia that you and him got along pretty well."

"Okay, I'm definitely not discussing this with you either." Miranda quickly countered. But then her cheeks drained of color as it dawned on Miranda what her father had really said. "Hey, wait a minute. You're getting reports from Kalmyia on my social life?"

The captain simply laughed at his daughter's realization. But before her father could continuing, his attention suddenly turned away, apparently addressing someone else in the background before turning back to conversation.

"I'm sorry, 'Randa, but I'm going to have to cut this short. Duty calls."

"It always does." Miranda replied with a hint of disappointment in her voice. "It was good talking to you, dad. Just be careful out there."

"'Randa, I'm in the most powerful warship in the entire fleet. Don't worry about me. You're the one that we both should be worried about."

"Thanks dad." Miranda said before the channel closed.

* * *

Deep within the shipwreck that brought the Spartans aboard High Charity, the five Spearheads sat impatiently in their Osprey for the queue to kick off their part of the plan. All around their dropship was the twisted metal of the covenant cargo ship along with the simmering heat of the ship's breached reactor core pouring out the EM and thermal radiation that kept the covenant from investigating too deeply into the wreck.

Nicole had to give credit where it's due. The Commander's plan was certainly effective in keeping them hidden, not a simple feat considering that they're Spearhead team with Steven's smoking, Richard's big mouth, and Jonathan muttering endlessly to his imaginary hamsters. There was, though, a down side, one that was foreseen but hardly appreciated until it actually fell upon them. The heat outside the Osprey was enough to flash boil water, and it was inevitably seeping into the dropship's cabin. Even with the atmospheric controls going full blast, it was 91 degrees centigrade inside the dropship; if it weren't for their armor, the Spearheads would have been cooked alive.

The Spearhead CO continued her rounds in the cargo hold. This area of the ship was significantly cooler due to the need to funnel as much cool air here as possible to keep their 'party surprises' ready for the battle. In addition to a 200mm helical rail artillery piece and its ammunition, there were more than two dozen Archer missiles mounted in transport racks and modified to fire from the ground. Then there were another two dozen or so Mako class combat drones, each armed with Pile Driver rockets and 20mm helical rail autocannons. The dozen or so of those camera drones normally reserved for news correspondents sat above the Mako drones. Finally, the nuclear ordinance checked out just fine.

Once reassured that the ordinance was fine, Nicole went to the main cabin to check on her charge. There lying asleep in an extra-large cyro-tube was Wa-514. Sleeping is all that Wa could do at the moment; anything more would be too much for him in this environment.

To the less informed, the Shock Trooper seemed indestructible. Nicole knew better, for there was one weakness that could stop Wa in his tracks.

Heat.

The human body was never meant to grow to the proportions that the Shock Trooper came to be. Combined with all those protective nanotube weaves under his skin, higher nominal blood pressure, and that immense metabolism, Wa was always one step away from hyperthemia. It wasn't a flaw that Ackerson had overlooked; after all, the Shock Trooper was only meant to perform a single suicide mission along with the IIIs. This was why she never minded him isolating himself from the rest of the team; whatever one might think of his melancholy, she knew that it was really just him trying to escape the heat. Normally in combat, his armor's near arctic conditions would deal with his body heat, but not today. In this heat, even his armor's cooling systems would be overloaded. So, while the rest of the team was virtually prancing about comfortably in their armor, Wa was stuck on ice.

Footsteps from behind her took Nicole's attention away from Wa where the sight of her three other teammates greeted her eyes.

"Oh, just let the big guy freeze. You know he likes it that way." Steven began.

"Not like this." Nicole responded. "You know that he still dreams during cryo-sleep. Don't you ever wonder what goes through his mind while he's asleep?"

The three guys looked at each other inquisitively before responding as one. "No."

Underneath her helmet, Nicole simply rolled her eyes. "Never mind."

The Spearhead CO sighed before she sat back down on the bench opposite of Wa. Nicole tried to let her mind wander, but it was no use. She was simply too accustomed to worrying about her team members; outside of combat, she was the only that could take care of her own little family. Nicole was amused at that thought. Richard and the twins had called her the team mom more than a few times. If she was the mom, then Wa was definitely the dad. He had always bore the greatest burden during combat, using his raw strength and endurance to break up any threat to the team before the others finished them off. He might act completely apathetic, but Nicole knew better.

"Well, at least actually Section III actually finished that extra-large cryotube for Wa. We'd be in real trouble without it."

That prompted an excited laugh from her team.

Nicole knew that laugh. They were planning something and were waiting for just the right moment.

"Oh yeah, we know all about Section III." Richard replied.

Then the three guys broke into a short dance accompanied by some music.

_They will sift through all your data, checking every byte and bit._

_They will test all your vectors from circuits to the clips._

_And they will make it so that it will fit inside your kit!_

_If you're in a situation, just write a requisition._

_If you need it, you can call in Section 3!_

_They're the nuttiest of nuttiest of special research groups._

_They may act like their brains' nothing but a giant bowl of fruit._

_But if you ever doubt they're brilliant, then just come and check my suit!_

_They have the tool for infiltration, and also mass destruction. _

_If you need it, you can call in Section 3!_

_And should you find yourself in some dark desperate straits,_

_You can rest assure that rescue's on the way!_

_Cause they'll send us Spearheads!_

_Whether its a billion credit warship or simple a power core,_

_An LMG, an SMG, or 4-gauge shotgun bore _

_You can trust the nerds at R&D to deliver for the Corps,_

_You may call it megalomania, but its really just Serena._

_If you need it, you can call in Section 3!_

After they were finished, the cabin was filled with the musical notes of laughter.

She truly did love her team.

After a minute to calm her laughter, Nicole spoke once more. "How long did it take for you write that one?"

"About a couple weeks." Richard admitted. "The last verse was meant to be a surprise for Serena for when we get back."

"Oh yeah, she's gonna love it." Steven concurred.

Nicole dwelled on that thought for a moment. Her team was utterly incapable of contemplating any outcome of this mission than a complete success. As the sane one of the group, though, Nicole found herself wishing that she had that sort of optimism.

"Yep. And Serena said that she'll have a surprise for us." Jonathan added enthusiastically before he turned surprised. "Uh, did I just say that out loud?"

That brought Nicole's train of thought to a screeching halt as a realization of supreme importance hit her. The only thing that have ever really held Serena's crazy schemes in check had been Colonel Yang's presence and oversight; she's been able to outsmart everyone else who've tried to control her. But ever since Colonel Yang took over Section 3 and especially since Operation Red Flag began, he's been away from Onyx for prolonged periods of time, time plenty enough for Serena to plan and execute any number of crazy schemes of mad science.

"Wait! A surprise? What kind of surprise?" Nicole demanded.

"What? What surprise? Wha...What are you talking about" Jonathan asked with a rapid fire sense of confusion.

"The surprise that you just mentioned that Serena has waiting for us for when we get back."

After a few twitches of the head, Jonathan finally answered.

"Ah crap. I remembered to forget, but I forgot to remember that I was supposed to forget that I forgot."

"What?" Nicole replied dumbfounded.

"Huh?" Jonathan returned equally perplexed.

Nicole narrowed her eyes as she turned to Steven and Richard. "Do you two know anything about this?"

"No, Serena never tells us about any of her projects until she's finished." Steven offered.

"Yeah. She always said that it's not a surprise unless other people know nothing about it beforehand." Richard added.

Nicole groaned underneath her helmet. Of course the only person Serena would tell about her projects would be the schizophrenic Spearhead. No one would believe a word he'd say, and that's assuming that he even bothered to remember it without his insanity corrupting the information. And in this case, Jonathan didn't just forget, but he apparently deliberately forgot what Serena told him.

"Never mind. Whatever surprise Serena has in store for us, I'm sure we'll find out when we get back."

* * *

As one would expect from a zealous theocracy, the detention block of the Covenant holy city of High Charity was fairly inconspicuous compared to the awesome splendor of the rest of the metropolis; obviously, the builders did not want to mar the glory of Covenant capital with a hold of the wretched refuse. The facility did not have the honor of being on the surface level, having its only access above being a separate gravity lift network that went deep underground like the entrance to a mine. The facility was further cut off from the rest of the city by a large courtyard where the prisoners were let out to hear the sermons of the prophets; here there were high walls along, sentry towers, and cold plasma force fields to maintain security. As for the prison interior, it was roughly a giant silo with individual cell blocks that linked together only by a central gravity lift. The individual cells, each the size of a small room, were sealed in with cold plasma force fields, leaving the guards little to do but to make sure that the power system and field generators never go out.

Usually, the block was filled with the convicts and outcasts of the many member species of the Covenant. But as of recent, they have all been cleared out and disposed of, in one way or another, to make way for a new group of prisoners: over seven hundred human prisoners that were meant to be sacrificed on the Day of Union. Not surprisingly, the guards have done little in caring for the prisoners, or really anything at all aside from maintaining the force fields and delivering what meager rations they cared to bring; after all, these humans were specifically not to be harmed so that they may be saved for the High Councilors to personally torture and execute.

Which is why there was one prisoner that was looking inquisitively out of his cell towards a dark corner of cell block. There was a …. distortion, for the lack of a better term, between the shadow and light as the central gravity lift intermittently pulsed with a purple glow. It was nigh impossible to pick up, but this prisoner's eyes has had more than enough practice in this art. The guards that came to bring food had shown no sign of noticing the distortion; either they didn't know or they weren't telling. The four other poor souls sharing the cell hadn't noticed either; they had long ago broken under the strain of foreseeing their imminent death by torture. Finally having exhausted his patience, the man emerged from the shadow, showing a rough visage of a soldier's face, exhausted but still focused.

The prisoner spoke up. "You might as well show yourself."

The distortion did not respond for a while, not until the last of the guards had ascended up the central lift. Once the scene was clear, the mirage finally moved, slowly floating over to another crevice in the wall right in front of the cell where it was out of any line of sight from the lift. Finally, the distortion shimmered as it coalesced something that caused the prisoner to gasp in shock.

It was a Spartan.

"You really are as good as your reputation claims, admiral." The super soldier whispered. He sounded pretty young, the admiral reckoned.

After taking a moment to collect himself, Cole leaned back against the cell's wall, making sure that he too was out of any guard's line of sight, before responding to the Spartan.

"I hope you're here to bust us out, solder."

"That's one of our objectives, admiral." The Spartan responded.

By this point, the other prisoners in the entire cell block finally noticed the newcomer, but the admiral quickly gestured to them to keep their cool lest they give away the Spartan's presence.

"How did you get in here?" Cole inquired.

The Spartan's answer took an amused tone. "Prisons are built to keep people in, not out."

"I meant how did you get into this station to begin with." Cole clarified. "Never mind. You got in and I'm assuming that you have a plan to get out. How many of you are there?"

"It'll take too long to explain, sir. We don't have the time. Suffice it to say, we're here in force. There's going to be a battle on this station. A big one. We're prosecuting multiple objectives right now, but getting you out is among our top priorities."

The admiral's fist clenched at the Spartan's answer. He knew how ONI worked.

"I'm not leaving these people behind." Cole declared.

"You won't have to, sir. We should have enough transports for all two hundred."

Cole rolled his eyes at that revelation. "Your intel is wrong. There's around seven hundred of us here!"

The Spartan was silent for a moment.

"We'll have to change our plans a bit, but we should still be able to extract all of you. You all should get yourselves ready. Anyone who can still fight should be ready to pick up a gun when the time comes."

The admiral nodded. "Tell the rest of your people that we'll be ready and waiting."

"Understood." The Spartan responded. "I'll go spread the word to the other cell blocks. But before I go, I have a message from Admiral Stanforth. He said that you and him are even."

It took a moment for the message to sink in. "So Michael is leading this op. Well, if he gets us out of here, I guess that we will be even."

The Spartan simply nodded as he triggered his cloak once more.

"Wait!" Cole spoke up. The Spartan was now cloaked, but he was clearly waiting for the question to come. "What's your name, son?"

"I don't have a name, sir. But you can call me Six."

* * *

Outside the prison complex, the rest of Noble Team continued their work of scouting and planning their attack as their resident infiltration specialist went inside to spread the word. The five Spartans remained cloaked even as they laid low on a outcropping of rock roughly two kilometers away from their target.

Carter felt a tap on his left arm as Kat raised her hand to gesture in sign language. The Spartans modulated their cloak slightly to give off a small thermal signature just strong enough to be spotted up close.

Now using the ghostly images of their hands, the Spartans conversed.

"I hate this part." Kat began.

"No, you'd just rather go in yourself." Carter replied.

"Yeah, actually. I would rather going in myself and give Six a run for his money."

"You're good at almost everything Kat, but Six is better in this case. Sneaking around underneath the Covenant's nose is what he does best. This is exactly why Colonel Yang wanted him on the team."

"No, Six is here because he's a replacement for Thom. You know that's why everyone calls him Six, right? He's always the sixth man and the perpetual FNG. He's the professional replacement. He only joins a team when they lose someone and he leaves as soon as another Spartan is ready to take his place. And he gets his way with all of this because everyone knows he's the colonel's favorite."

That monologue raised a hint of concern from Carter. He could guess what this was really about. There was only one reason that Kat could be angry with Six and it wasn't because of anything that Six did. Considering that the only ways in and out of this outcropping, which seemed to never be graced with visitors anyway, are guarded by Jorge and Emile with Jun perched above them, the Noble CO decided that he had enough time on his hands to have a chat with his XO.

"Come on. What really happened?" Carter gestured.

After a few moments of sulking, Kat finally responded. "I got a message from Thom when the fleet arrived."

"And?"

"He said that he's settling in back in Camp Haya. Tom and Lucy are trying to make him feel at home and Serena is trying to get him to volunteer for some of her experiments."

That last bit prompted a bit of silent laughter from both Spartans.

"He said that all the rooks are looking at him weird; some were even jeering at him. Everyone knows about what happened, why he's back on Onyx."

Kat sighed as she was forcefully dragged back into the memory that particular day's event.

_She was known for her genius, dissecting or repairing any piece of technology that the team have ever came across. But Kat was also known for her speed. She wasn't the fastest of the Spartan-IVs, but she was among the top ten. _

_And now, with a tactical nuke in one arm and a pistol in the other, Kat ran as fast as she could across the rubble strewn field that was the front line of the battle. All around, soldiers fought and fell wounded or dead as plasma bolts and bullets screamed through the air. _

_Those soldiers needed help, but she could do nothing for them. It was all up to her. The only operational nuke left on the planet, the only thing that can bring down that Covenant cruiser dropping an entire army down onto the surface, was in Kat's arms. The message from orbit, all garbled and barely decipherable, said that another Spartan team was dropping in just three more clicks in front of her. With their help, they could finally bring that bloody cruiser down. _

_She could see that banshee flying above her. She knew what it planned to do as it banked in for a strafing run. Kat could do nothing as she ran ahead of her team, praying that the banshee would miss. _

_It didn't _

_After that initial burst of green light right in front of her, Kat found herself on her back as the world that was her transparent aluminum visor cracked and splintered. The Spartan tried to move, but nothing happened, her body numb to both sensation and command. _

_A figure walked up beside her broken body. It was Thom. _

_The other Spartan looked down upon her, his visor hiding the comprehension of the duty that now befell him. Kat could do nothing but watch as Thom overcharged his thruster pack and flew off with the bomb. _

_She wanted to scream out at him. She saw that the bomb was damaged in the blast. The countdown was already going. There was no way in hell that Thom could make it to the cruiser's central gravity lift and still make it out in time. _

_Even as she tracked his vapor trail in the sky, Kat understood that there was only one way that this could end._

_Thom was on a suicide mission and he didn't even know it. _

_But then, Kat spotted another vapor trail on an intercept course with Thom's. The two collided and, for a few moments, became one before dividing once more. This time, one trail veered off and blinked away as the other shot off far faster than before towards the cruiser's lift. _

_It was then that she saw a black dot falling from the sky towards her. _

_Then she heard what sounded like screams of terror as the dot took on a vaguely human shape._

_Was that Thom's voice?_

_Kat's suspicion was finally confirmed as her fellow teammate came crashing down into the dirt beside her. _

_Then came the familiar sound of a 20mm autocannon ripping through the air along with a rapid staccato of explosions. _

_Finally, there was that oh so familiar choir of maniacal laughter. _

_As Thom groaned miserably beside her, Kat finally understood that garbled message._

_That other Spartan team they sent was Spearhead._

_It was then that Noble-2 noticed another white vapor trail streaking out from the cruiser's gravity lift before the entire covenant warship erupted in nuclear fire bouncing back and forth within its shield. _

_Meanwhile, that other vapor trail zoomed towards Kat even as she saw Nicole, Jonathan, and Wa charged over her, tearing into the covenant as they helped the rest of Noble team to drive the Covenant back. From the sound of gunfire receding away, they weren't having too much trouble._

_With a resounding thud, Richard finally landed beside her. _

"_TOUCHDOWN HAHAHA!" The Spearhead assault specialist shouted triumphantly into the air. _

_Kat groaned in pain as she felt someone lift her up bridal style. _

"_Not today, sweetheart. You're too beautiful to die." Steven all but serenaded._

_Oh, how badly she wanted to tell Steven to go fuck off. _

That was the last straw for Colonel Yang. Thom was already on probation after a few incidents of carelessness and the Colonel decided that it was time for Thom to pay the price. He was taken off of Noble and sent back to Camp Haya to help train the Spartan cadets; of course, everyone knew that Yang really sent Thom back as a humiliation. Being taken out of action for disciplinary problems was something that had never happened before to a Spartan, let alone a Spartan on the flagship team.

"You're not being fair to Six." Carter gestured. "It's not his fault that Thom got what came to him. And it wasn't your fault either. Thom can't blame anyone but himself for getting distracted. He should have been concentrating on deactivating that bomb instead of rushing off alone. And besides, everything turned out for the best."

"I know." Kat responded. She admitted that Six was just a convenient target for her anger and that Thom's humiliation was better than the alternative. Hell, Rich saved his life, even if the Spearhead had faceplanted him to do it. It was partially because of her personal debt to those jackasses with hearts of gold that she threw her lot in with Spearhead during that debacle last week.

"I miss him, Carter. It just doesn't feel like Noble team without him." Kat finally said.

Carter could sympathize with her. Thom had his flaws, but he was always able to integrate himself with the flow of the team. But Six? Carter knew that Six was trying his best to fit in. However, Colonel Yang's adopted son just wasn't a team player, at least not in the way that other Spartan-IVs operate. Six was happy to get help whenever he could, but he never once relied on it; he was someone who contributed without taking even the slightest bit and that can seriously throw a team off. The way Carter saw it, Six was more like a Spartan-II that he was a Spartan-IV.

"I wouldn't dwell too much on it. Six doesn't plan to stay on for long and I'm sure Thom would have learned his lesson by now."

Then Carter grinned underneath his helmet. "And look on the bright side. At least he didn't have to go through the Spearhead treatment the way you did."

Kat promptly began to grind her teeth as notes of the William Tell Overture sounded off in her mind once more.

* * *

At the outskirts of the holy city was the most sacred site on High Charity: the Sacred Valley where the signing of the Writ of Union took place millennia ago. The valley consist of a mountain towering many kilometers into the skyline, the tallest elevation in the city save the Forerunner Key Ship itself. Inaccessible from all but one side, the scalable face of the was where the Prophet of Wisdom and the very first Arbiter communed to end the war between the their two peoples. There, before the leaders of both Sangheili and San'Shyum enclosed by the two great slopes, they proclaimed the Writ of Union and the founding of the Covenant.

Since that day, the anniversary of the founding has called for elaborate rituals to be performed on the Great Alter at the very center of the valley. This year, the great attraction was the planned public torture and execution of hundreds of captured human prisoners. Already, preparations are being made for this great gathering where hundreds of thousands of the luckiest or most privileged citizens of the Covenant crowd every square centimeter of the hills and the sizable valley itself to get a glimpse of the ceremonies. Particular spots were staked out and refreshments of all sorts were being stockpiled. Most importantly, the preparations and procession were to be coordinated by no less than a Hierarch of the High Council. Though tradition usually dictate that the role consistently be rotated every year between the three hierarchs, it has become a recent tradition for the Prophet of Mercy, the great moderator and the eldest and most beloved of the three hierarchs, to preside over the ceremonies.

And from several kilometers away in the foliage outside the valley, Fred could see it all in action. Through the Oracle-7 scope mounted on his SM-4 Helical Rail Rifle, the Red Team CO studied his prey. The prophet had at least a entire company of Elite honor guards around him with additional regular security forces that normally patrolled the valley. The prophet himself seemed old and gangly, in Fred's opinion, hardly looking the part of a great ruler of a genocidal alien theocracy.

It would be so easy. At five kilometers, the distance between the prophet's head and the muzzle of his rifle was well within his weapon's effective range. At that distance, the 12.7mm self-sharpening tungsten round would still pack enough energy to tear the alien in two. Billions of humans were dead because of this alien and his cohorts. The only thing that stopped the Spartan from pulling on his trigger was the knowledge that the prophet was worth far more alive than dead, that the alien's capture could mean the end of the war.

Instead, Fred contented himself to completing his observations for the coming battle. The first task at hand was already complete: confirming the presence of the high prophet. Next was to obtain up-to-date information on the terrain. This Medicant Bias had provided ONI beforehand with the layout of the city with great detail. However, no self-respecting operator would trust entirely on intel acquired from dubious sources that could either be faked, outdated, or incomplete at the very least. Thus far, the proffered intel was on the mark.

The valley itself was roughly circular with the mountain covering around a third of its arc. The remaining portions were cordoned off by two other major elevations, each roughly 150-200 meters high with terrain varying from smooth rolling slopes to impassible cliffs. One section of the western slope in particular dominated the gap that formed the entrance into the valley. Outside the valley itself, there were rolling fields and bucolic pastures that formed that natural reserve of the holy city. The area was further dotted with small streams and groves that added to its natural beauty. The final items that caught Fred's attention was two buildings of sorts that lay about two kilometers from the slopes of the elevations guarding the valley. From Medicant Bias' map, those two fairly large structures were some sort of temples, complete with its own walled off courtyards and spires that jut out about a hundred meters or so into the air.

With all the intel checked out, Fred moved to the next phase of his portion of the operation. It would be the responsibility of Red and Gold teams to secure the Prophet once the battle begins. To that end, they would have to position themselves at the proper place whilst they wait for the moment to pounce. It would be impossible for such a small contingent of Spartans to engage honor guard contingent and capture the Prophet at the same time. Instead, Red and Gold teams were merely an advance force for the expected Marine reinforcements that would land in the valley itself. And of course, all of it rested on Spearhead team delivering on their part of the operation.

Fred quickly disassembled his rail rifle and readied to move out. The other Spartans of Red and Gold teams waited for him in an empty clearing a short distance from the bottom of the hill. Together, they approached the valley under cloak, avoiding the densest concentration of Covenant patrols as they headed towards the mountain at the far end of the valley.

* * *

The approach to the Key Ship at the heart of High Charity was, as one would expect, exceptionally well protected due to both its religious significance as well as its status as the source of power and propulsion for the station itself. There was only one entrance into the vicinity as all other approaches were sealed off by a great chasm and by a powerful cold plasma shield bubble that enclosed the ship from outside. The approach itself was essentially a giant Forerunner-built light bridge emitted from the ship itself that has been reappropriated to serve its current function. The bridge was a good hundred meters wide and at least four hundred meters long to span the chasm with two physical islands of stone and metal to serve as relays between sections of the light bridge.

Normally, only the members of the High Council would be allowed access. The only other exception were the Huragoks who tended to the light bridge facilities and Key Ship itself. It was for this reason that the guards on the bridge did not interfered with the group of Huragoks as the two islands and a few systems in the Key Ship itself suddenly experienced some major power fluctuations that prompted some worry; such things do occasionally occur due to the Covenant's imperfect interface with the Forerunner ships system. Nor did they question why these Huragoks seemed to be emitting some light levels of electromagnetic radiation that interfered with their scanner's readings. After all, the Huragoks were holy creatures crafted by hands of the Forerunners themselves and they have never elicit any reason to doubt their devotion to their sacred task of maintaining the Forerunners' gifts.

And John was glad they hadn't.

The six Spartans of Blue team nervously marched over the chasm on the beam of hard light beneath their feet, fighting off a sense of vertigo with every step. As they passed the islands, their Huragok escorts peeled away to the repair their own sabotage until only a single Huragok remained with them. They all breathed a silent sigh of relief as they finally reached over to the other side of the chasm. Again, the Covenant guards did not pay attention to them as their Huragok escort lead them to the entrance of the Key Ship. The great circular door that looked like it could fit a corvette through had been decorated with Covenant icons and religious items of all sort. The courtyard constructed before it was vast, alternating between steps and terraces that spanned many dozens of meters.

As the massive door of the entrance parted before them, John raised the com channel to his team, short range radio communication now possible thanks to the Huragoks jamming of Covenant sensors.

"We need to leave a guard outside, someone to slow the Covenant down once the show starts."

"I'll do it." Linda responded as she created a marker on the team's HUD for a ledge right on top of the massive entrance. "I can have the entire area in my sights from up there."

"Do it." John concurred.

With that, the Spartan sniper departed from the group. John could see Linda beginning to scale the hull of the ship as the door. He knew that she'll be fine. This is exactly what she does best: using a rifle and a wide field of fire to paralyze far larger force as the other Spartans maneuvered around.

Once the Spartans were inside, they first noticed a definite change in architecture. Instead of the carapace purple and elegant curves of the Covenant, they were exposed to an angular design laced with blue and white glowing outlines on a metallic background that ran along much of the interior. The hallway was wide enough for the entire team to walk lined abreast with proper intervals.

"Okay then, we've definitely established that this ship is not Covenant in origin." Cortana commented.

The lone Huragok motioned to follow it. There were no guards inside the ship since it was viewed as impregnable and that only the highest members of the Covenant and the Huragoks were permitted entrance through the otherwise impenetrable security.

John could almost taste the surprise the guards would feel once the Spartans go loud.

As the team moved deeper and deeper into the ship, John found himself fighting off a since of deja vu. Somehow, all of this felt familiar, as if he knew which way to go even as the Huragok guided them through the twists and turns in the ship.

"Cortana, is everything ready on your end?" John inquired.

"I'm ready to go as soon as you can find a spot on the central mainframe to plug me in." Cortana replied.

"And the Covenant network?"

This time, Cortana's response took a nervous tone. "Well, that's ready too. Those lunatics will have the broadcast network when the time comes. That said... Commander, I know we're supposed to keep a meticulous record of the engagement, but would you mind if I scrub my name off the record just this once? I really don't want my name associated with what they're going to do."

It was tempting to say yes; hell, it was even more tempting to tell Cortana to scrub John's name too off of this battle record no matter how it ended.

After nearly twenty minutes of wandering around on this vast ship, the Spartans came across a final hallway that led to one last set of massive doors. The Huragok moved to interface with one of the holographic panels beside the door.

"Commander?" Cortana spoke up.

This snapped John to attention as he realized that he was extending his hand to interact with holopanel that the Huragok was using. For some reason, the alien then backed off, as if letting the Spartan do the honor of opening the door.

"I think that we should let him work, Commander. Unless, of course, you suddenly learned how to read these Forerunner symbols."

John didn't really listen to Cortana as his instinct took hold once more. Armored fingers scrolled through the miniature holograms until they found the symbol he was unconsciously looking for.

Slowly, the massive doors opened.

"Wait! How.. How did you know how do that?!" Cortana all but shouted into John's helmet.

"I..." John mumbled. "I don't know. I just... knew."

"That's got to be a record for the most useless answer ever." Cortana retorted. "In any case, this should be it. Medicant Bias should be in here."

Once inside, the Spartans were greeted with the sight of the heart of the ship. Cortana had mentioned before that it would have been some equivalent of a bridge, a CIC, and a science lab all rolled into one. The room was fairly massive in scale, probably big enough to fit a corvette, something that John noticed to be a recurring theme with these Forerunners. There was a physical bridge that led to a central dais suspended over the chasm that held holographic panels much in the same manners as was the bridge of the _Truth and Reconciliation_. Aside from the panels, there were several stations that held items suspended in some sort of containment field. One station held a jagged yellow crystal of some sort that was the size of a basketball. Another held some sort of spherical device that was hollow as the sides with some sort of central eye that reminded John of a camera drone.

While it was all interesting, the most critical thing to this mission was not present.

Where was this Medicant Bias?

"Hey! You said that you'd led us to him." Cortana shouted at the Huragok.

"Cortana!" John shouted back at the AI. "Yelling at him is going to..."

The Spartan found himself cut off as a green light flowed out from drone suspended in the containment field. The glow then narrowed into a single plane of light that swept back and forth over the Spartans like a scanner of sorts, prompting them to raise their weapons towards the drone.

When it finally ceased, the drone began to rotate back and forth as if to face the newcomers.

Then it finally spoke with a rich baritone voice.

"Long have I awaited this day, reclaimers. And it is finally here. You are finally here."

Slowly, John lowered his rifle, prompting the other Spartans to do the same.

"Are you Medicant Bias?" The Commander began.

"That much is obvious." The AI responded. "I am Medicant Bias. And you are my redemption, reclaimer."

"Okay, lets just cut to the chase." Cortana interjected. "You have no idea what we had to go through just to get here. Now we'd really like some answers."

"Cortana!" John spoke again. "Let me handle this."

"Your ancilla is correct, reclaimer. I have been watching you since your arrival in this star system. Moreover, I have been watching your people ever since your war with these meddlers began many cycles ago. You have fumbled around in ignorance even as the meddlers' hordes have swept you back further and further. No more. My redemption shall begin with your enlightenment."

* * *

Deep within the Sanctum of the Hierarchs, the Prophet retired early to his personal chambers. Officially his reasons for departing from the High Council's session was of fatigue, but the real reason were on display right before his eyes. At the desk of the prophet was a real time holographic image of what was transpiring at the Key Ship at this very moment.

Perhaps it was paranoia that led the Prophet to secretly install a hard line observation system in the central chamber of the Key Ship that was independent of the other security systems, but it turned out to be prescient in this case. How these demons got on board the station or whether there are more humans around, he did not know. What Truth did know from experience, though, was that danger also brought opportunity. All these cycles, the Prophet had tried to pry the secrets of the Forerunners from the AI. Now it was being offered to him on a plate. Moreover, it was means to prosecute his current objective along side the preservation of the Covenant.

And so, for the time being, Truth did nothing as the ancient AI spoke. It told the demons of the Forerunners, the great guardians of the galaxy and the holder of the Mantle. It spoke of how they encountered a great enemy from beyond the outer reaches of the galaxy, how Bias had betrayed his masters and doomed them to a final recourse they had hoped that they would never have to resort to. Then it spoke of how the Covenant came about, how it was its own mad mumblings that led to the union of the Elites and Prophets into a single powerful war machine. Then it spoke of how it had inadvertently caused the war by making the Prophets think that the Humans were a threat to their political power.

Conspicuously, though, the AI left out all details of the parasites that were that great enemy of the Forerunners, refusing to even give a name to them or the means with which they were ultimately stopped. Nor did it mentioned the great inheritance that the Librarian had intended for her proverbial children. Finally, it was vague and ambiguous as to in what manner did the humans threatened the San Shyuum's political power. This prompted a sense of relief from Truth. For whatever reason, the AI had not deemed to reveal to the humans the most dangerous secret that it held.

The entrance sudden chimed before Truth granted entrance to his expected guest: the Jiralhanae Chieftain Tartarus. The massive beast walked leisurely into the Prophet's chambers until it was greeted with the holographic display

"Calm yourself, Tartarus. The situation is under control." Truth preempted, prompting the Jiralhanae to kneel before the Prophet.

"Your eminence, I beg you to inform me of what is transpiring."

"What is transpiring, Tartarus, is the opportunity that we have been waiting for. I shall return to the Council session soon enough. In the meantime, summon your best troops and have them cleanse this filth from the Key Ship. You yourself, however, shall report to the High Council and declare that you have caught this infiltration where the Sangheilis have failed."

The old Jiralhanae chuckled as it realized the intent of the Prophet's plan. "With pleasure, your holiness. But what of the Oracle?"

"The humans have obviously corrupted it. See to it that it is disposed of."

* * *

After Medicant Bias was finished with his tale, the Spartans looked at each other curiously. It was an incredible story by any measure, one spanning literally epochs and eons of time. It was also one of tragedy and of a personal quest for redemption on a galactic scale.

And yet, there was so much missing from the story. Who was this great enemy? What was humanity's connection to these Forerunner that would make the Prophets fear their existence? What were the means with which this great enemy was finally dispatched that also purged the Forerunners themselves?

Finally, Cortana broke the silence.

"Okay, I'm going to give you the benefit of the doubt that you're telling the truth. Still, you do realize that the story you told us was not only hard to believe, but also riddled with holes?"

This time, John didn't interrupt Cortana because those were the exact comments that he would have made.

"Yes, I know." Medicant Bias acknowledged. "But they are not important. I'm asking you to trust me for I want nothing more that your victory over these meddlers."

"But you've given us no reason to trust you." John challenged.

"I've gotten you this far, haven't I?" Bias countered.

The Spartan would have to give the AI that. And considering the situation, John didn't think that Bias would have anything to gain from lying to them.

"Yes, you have." John conceded. "But you could tell us more. If we knew what really happened, we'll be better able to end this war as soon as possible."

For a moment, the AI stayed silent as if contemplating John's point before it finally responded with a frustrated tone.

"No. I understand that you are not fully satisfied by my hesitance, but I asked that you accept my decision and do the best with what I am willing to provide you with."

"But why?" John pushed. "Why can't you tell us? What is so dangerous about us...

Suddenly, the AI's green glow turned crimson before it began to shout. "BECAUSE CHILDREN SHOULD NOT HAVE TO PAY FOR THE SINS OF THEIR PARENTS!"

That outburst stunned everyone in the chamber, including Bias itself as it shifted back into a calming green glow.

"I'm sorry. But I have already said too much."

John sighed. The Spartan knew when not to push his luck and to settle for the consolation prize.

"Fine. But you could help us in other ways. We need to deliver a cyberwarfare package into the Covenant mainframe and to shut off the slispspace disruption field."

"Yes, I could do those things. Release me from this constriction field."

John hesitated at the command after the ancient AI's outburst; the Spartan knew what rampant AI's could do. However, the Commander realized that he didn't really have much of a choice considering the situation. The Spartan walked up to the holographic panel before the constriction field generator and released the AI's spherical body which then floated about in the air.

"Your cyberweapon's data crystal. Give it to me." Bias commanded.

John withdrew the data crystal that held Minutiae from an armored compartment from his waist and offered it to Bias. From its central eye, a beam of light seized the crystal from the Commander's hand before suspending it in the air for a couple seconds. Then, Bias allowed the crystal to drop unceremoniously onto the floor where it shattered.

"It is done." Bias declared. Then the AI floated over to the massive yellow crystal that was just across the dais. It disable the constriction field before shooting another beam of light into the crystal. Soon after, the crystal began to vibrate until it finally shattered into a thousand pieces.

"What was that for?" Cortana demanded.

"That was the luminary core. It is the means with which these meddlers have used to locate your worlds for extermination. Without it, their task would be greatly hindered. As for the slipspace disruption field, I will have to disable it at the engine room of the ship. You will not be able to follow me there."

Just then, John received a hail over his com channel. It was Linda.

"This is Blue Actual. Go ahead." John began.

"We've been made, sir. The guards have already tried to rush in. I've neutralize them for now, but more are on the way." Linda said. As if to reinforce her point, John could hear the cracking of her rail rifle in the background.

"How many?"

"All of them, I think." Linda deadpanned. "And they are definitely not happy."

"Hold your position for now. We're en route. Blue Actual out."

"Wait!" Bias shouted. "Before you go, I must ask something of you. The Huragoks that brought you here. Take them with you. All that these meddlers know of technology and science, these Huragoks carry within them. They have helped to bring you here and will help you further still if you let them. More importantly, they have no wish to be a part of the meddlers' bloodthirsty empire any longer and they bear you no ill will. Swear to me that upon your victory you will not forget about their kind."

John looked to the engineer, who in turn seemed to almost be imploring the Spartans to bring it with them. Its kind was alien, yes, but its was one that had never directly harmed humanity. Hell, one of them just fixed his rifle mere hours ago. Still, it took a few moments for John to swallow the fact that he was now dedicating himself to protect an alien who was now on his side.

John nodded.

"Thank you." Bias replied. "And this is where we must part ways. I shall deactivate the disruptor. Go now and farewell."

"Wait!" John shouted as Bias was floating away before the AI turned back. "Come with us. We can hold the entrance and wait for you to finish your job."

"No, reclaimer." Bias replied with a tone of finality. "If you wait for me, you shall be trapped here. It is paramount that you escape with what you now know. Moreover, there is only one path of redemption for the crimes that I have committed. One day, you will know the truth of my actions, why I have told so much and so little at the same time, and why there cannot be any other way. But you will also know, my creators will also know, that I have changed!"

Finally, the Forerunner AI disappeared into into the chasm below.

So it begins.

John steeled himself before he turned to the rest of his team and issued his orders. It was time for the next phase of the operation.

"Let's move out. We'll head to the RV point with Noble Team. Weapons free on all hostiles. And Cortana, do it."

"Okay, showtime!" The AI replied as she went to work. The Trojans that she had inserted into the Covenant networks came to life as they seized the control of several systems, among them communications both within and without High Charity. A single message was broadcast in plain text.

_Oly Oly Oxen Free_.

* * *

All throughout High Charity, the rhythm of excitement over the ceremonies of the Day of Union came to an abrupt halt as massive series of explosions seized the populace's attention. The disturbances were centered on one of the two primary docks of the station, the prisons, and on the Citadel of the Council of Masters.

Outside the station, specifically at the twin gas giants several million kilometers away, hundreds of Covenant civilian ships and small patrol vessels suddenly triggered their emergency beacons before they were just as suddenly silenced. From the clouds of hydrogen and helium, dozens of UNSC ships began to emerge. Led by the mighty _Pillar of Autumn_, the ships all aligned their MACs towards High Charity in a prepositioned pattern as the prowlers provided the final data for their targeting solutions. In the most powerful barrage yet fired by any UNSC naval force in this war, all two hundred ships sent hundreds of kinetic fusions shells towards the massive station's engines.

As that happened, every holographic broadcast of all sorts on the station were suddenly seized by an unknown force. The images quickly morphed into a single demon clad in armor as black as night standing before a pile of corpses that had formerly been the Covenant's Council of Masters.

And then the declaration came.

"Achtung! Wretched denizens of High Charity. Your destruction is the will of our janitor Phil, and we are his instruments. No, Phil is not a god, but he is that awesome. Oh, by the way Phil. Listen, we're really, REEEAAALLLY sorry about that mess we left in hangar bay 3. Honestly, we did not know that a few out-of-tune grav plates, a hydrogen cracker, a bag of Brazilian nuts, and a couple of three bean wet burritos could do THAT. We really hope this makes up for it, man. YOU'RE THE BEST!"

* * *

**A/N: Finally, the battle, as in the shooting phase of the battle, begins. I have to admit that I'm a little worried about the flow of the chapter. After all, it was almost a roller coaster of laughter and tension, especially at the end. Do you guys think that I got it right?**

**Next up, I have included the final descriptions of the coming terrains of the battle on the ground. However, I think that most people would forget the details by the time the next chapter is up. Do you guys feel comfortable with flipping back to this chapter or do you guys need a quick refresher on the terrain for every segment? **

**Next, I imagine that some people would find Medicant Bias' refusal to help the Spartans more to be confusing. Suffice it to say, it would be explained in the next chapter. **

**Also, I used the Hussar as a launch pad for Miranda and Jacob's scene. That said, I did go into the details of the Hussar as a hint to the new ships that would eventually show up. Lets see if anyone can figure out what I'm trying to do. **

**Finally, here's a little preview for the next chapter.**

* * *

On Nicole's command, the team looked out the outer walls of the citadel to see what the Covenant had mustered. Before them lay an endless sea of Covenant zealots and armed civilians as far as the eye can see.

And they were all marching towards the citadel.

"That...that ain't right." Steven commented disapprovingly.

"Yeah, I know. Something is missing, but I can't quite put my finger on it." Richard concurred.

Just then, Jonathan chimed in over the com. "Don't worry, guys. I got it."

Once more the powerful speakers of the citadel and those that remained in the city itself came to life with Spearhead's broadcast. This time, though, it began with an 8-bit electronic tune.

Then the lyrics came.

_Test Your Might!_

_Test Your Might!_

_Test Your Might!_

_MORTAL KOMBAT!_

_Fight!  
_

"Okay, NOW it's right!" Steven shouted as the great Covenant horde before them charged into the causeway.


	28. Chapter 28

**Disclaimer: I can't believe that this still has to be said, but Halo is all Bungie's (or 343 Industries or whoever it is now). Any attempts to sue the author will net you at most one of my doomsday devices (Go ahead and take one, I have more!)**

A/N: As long time fans would recall, this fic came out more than two years ago. With Black Ops II out and all the fancy gear in it, all I have to say to Treyarch is this: Challenge accepted.

Thank god my worst semester ever is over. I was originally planning for this chapter to be longer. But damn it, the update monkey won't get off of my back! So here is what I have so far. My apologies to my betas.

The second thing to mention is that of all the things in the Halo universe that are inconsistent, the space battle statistics are most inconsistent of all. So I'll be blunt: I'm pulling the numbers out of my ass. Don't pay so much attention to the numbers as to the maneuvers and strategies.

Next, I feel that I have to describe the SM-4 Pulse Energy Cannon because of its role in this story. It is a Free-Electron Laser cannon that uses a pulse impulse detonation protocol. That means instead of a laser that cuts or pierces, its a laser that causes things to explode. Aesthetically, it is a modified Spartan Laser that has the power couplers to feed from the Mjolnir Mk V reactor core (my version, anyway). It can be modified to fire high energy EM bursts to damage or incapacitate electronics or weaken plasma shields.

* * *

"_By holding out bait, he keeps them on march. Then, with a body of picked men, he lies in wait for them." - Sun Tzu, The Art of War. _

* * *

_**15 Minutes Before.**_

At one of the smaller dockyards of High Charity, a situation was developing. Granted, nearly the entire holy city was seized with situations that likewise drew all attention, but this one was definitely the most kinetic and explosive of them all. Just yesterday, a cargo ship had some sort of unexplained malfunction that left its crew and the ship itself naught but melting slag. As if that wasn't bad enough for the yard crews, there had been a series of unmitigated interruptions and mishaps that had hampered all attempts to clear the crashed ship's remains from the yard. It was as if the Forerunners themselves prevented the yard crews from doing their job.

That superstitious paranoia wasn't too far from the mark.

Now, the attention of dozens of Ungoys and Sangheilis turned back to the wreckage as it began to rumble and shake. Before anyone could sort out what was causing the disturbance, a massive explosion roared out of the wreckage, scattering what remained of the ship all across the massive dockyard. As the smoke settled, those on the ground who were still alive and in possession of their faculties were greeted with the sight of a human dropship nestled in the crater. The vessel had been fairly heavily modified. For starters, its exterior hull had been massively reinforced with a Titanium-C exoskeleton and ARC armor plating. On the wings of the Osprey there were two fairly large rocket boosters that were usually meant for assisting much larger freighters to achieve escape velocity. Finally, there two racks of massive Archer missiles that were almost comically outsized for the ship.

Inside the Osprey's cabin, the five members of Spearhead team buckled in for what they hope to be a very exhilarating ride. Nicole took to the co-pilot and gunner seat, giving Wa the main stick. Usually, Nicole would pilot any by herself any craft that her team boarded; not only was this CO's privilege, but she knew better than to let anyone else on her team at the wheel or stick. This time, though, the situation would require Wa's raw strength and power.

Nicole made one last inspection of her team. Steven secured his _Eargesplitten Loudenboomer_ Mk III next to his seat while the MK IV was stowed away in the back. For their part, Jonathan and Richard secured their assault grenade launchers and flamethrowers in the same manner. But Wa, however, was walking into the cabin with more than a handful of weapons. Along with his trademark hunter's shield and 20mm helical rail autocannon, there was the pulse energy cannon and the recently acquired gravity hammer from Serena.

"You know what, Wa, why don't you let take the pulse energy cannon this time." Nicole said as she swiped the Pulse Energy Cannon from Wa's heavily laden back. Unlike the other members of Spearhead, Nicole knew that Wa really didn't mind losing a weapon as his raw strength, endurance, and brutality are his real tools of destruction. "You should probably leave the autocannon hear until right time too."

With an annoyed grunt, the shock trooper did as instructed.

"Weapons ready. We have target lock on the exit." Nicole shouted as she gripped the weapons controls. "Everyone ready to do this?"

"Hold on, Nikki. Just one last thing before we head out. I finally got the induction port working." Steven said as he mounted his recently modified helmet. Right on where the jaw piece was there was now a port that seemed to perfectly fit one of Steven's already lit blunt. The Spearhead sharpshooter cackled as he whipped out a lighter and lit up his stogie.

With a tired sigh, Nicole pulled the trigger. The Osprey unloaded a hail of Archer missiles mounted on exterior racks straight across the yard and into the wall that led to the grav lifts to the surface. The explosions killed the last of the dockyard's survivor and cleared the way for the Osprey. The Spearhead CO took the stick for now, delicately maneuvered the ship into the shaft using just the standard thrusters and began their ascent and using the forward mounted 20mm helical rail autocannon to blast away what debris that remained in their path.

Now came the exciting part.

"Alright, boys. Hold on to your stomachs!" Nicole warned one last time before she gave Wa the stick and ignited the rocket boosters.

Instantly, the team was forced back into their heavily reinforced seats as the g-forces slammed into them. Only the shock trooper remained able to defy the crushing blast, holding the Osprey straight as they ascended the grav lift. The combined effects of the grav lift and the Osprey's rocket boosters meant that by the time the drop ship smashed through the roof of the lift station on the surface it was already well in excess of Mach 4. Once they broke into the city's open skies, the Osprey quickly turned towards the Citadel of the Council of Masters nearly 35 kilometers away, a distance they covered in seconds as the team left the Covenant airborne patrols in their path in absolute confusion. As they neared the fortress, the Osprey presented her heavily armored bottom side to the wind to break its air speed, though it wasn't nearly enough to stop the impending crash. Immediately upon breaching the citadel's no-fly zone, the fortress's many anti-air needle batteries automatically opened up, but they had no chance of intercepting something that was headed for them at such speeds.

Like a meteor scraping into the earth, the Osprey plowed into the ornate stone works of the citadel's central commons, coming to a stop only after slamming into the far outer walls.

An entire company of Sangheili and Unngoy guards along with two pairs of Lekgolos immediately surrounded the crash site with weapons drawn. Immediately, they noticed three things. This vessel, though foreign to them, was wrecked to the point that they knew that it was never going to fly again. Second, they noticed that what looked like a cargo door was opening, prompting them to immediately pour all their weapons fire into the portal until the door was slagged and their weapons were overheated. As the smoke billowed away, though, they noticed the third thing coming from the wreckage: a booming voice that sounded distinctly human.

"You know, it is said that the essence of all warfare is the element of surprise... well, SURPRISE!"

From the smoke, several of Jonathan's stick grenades along with smoke grenades landed amidst the Covenant security teams, followed by the whoosh of three 120mm mortar rounds launched out of three Panzerfausts. As the Lekgolo pairs and the couple dozen or so Sangheili and Unngoy survivors fortunate enough to be far enough away from the explosions to survive collected themselves, more ports around the ship explosively opened before giving way to the engine roars of dozens of Mako class attack drones. The drones, each almost the size of a small compact automobile, buzzed out of the Osprey and climbed into the sky to avoid ground fire.

But before the drones could even turn around to make their attack runs, the covenant guards noticed two things. First, the citadel's anti-air guns were not tracking the human drones. Second, a terrifyingly bestial roar, one not even the most savage Jiralhanae could hope to match, rumbled out from the wreckage along with an ominous staccato of charging footsteps. From the clouds of smoke and dust, the massive figure of the Spartan Shock Trooper surged out straight towards the closest pair of hunters, the electrostatic buffer fields surrounding him turning the gravity hammer in his hands into a lightening rod. Before the two alien beast could respond, 514 fell upon them, flattening the first hunter into the ground and leaving a crater of molten metal and desiccated orange flesh. The other hunter threw itself into viscous retaliation, swinging its massive shield overhead to smash it on the Shock Trooper. The attack was stopped cold by Wa's own shield, the quarter meter of face hardened reinforced tungsten molybdenum steel on his left arm giving nothing to the one held by the hunter even as the shock trooper's footing crater into the ground. 514 knocked the hunter onto its back with a violent shove before swinging his hammer straight up into his victim, the raw force and dark energy explosion sending the flattened hunter crashing into the citadel wall in the distance.

A shower of plasma and radioactive slugs finally broke Wa's attention on the first pair of hunters as the remaining covenant guards poured in fire at his direction, his powerful assault cold plasma shield and physical shield on his arms absorbing the blows whilst the electrostatic buffer deflected more than a few shots. As the shock trooper charged towards the next pair of hunters, the rest of Spearhead team emerged from the Osprey to join the battle. They took cover behind the wreckage as Richard rushed forward to cover Wa's rear as the shock trooper laid waste to all before him, the survivors meeting their end at the muzzle of Richard's assault grenade launcher or the blade of his Arc Machete even as Steven and Jonathan concentrated their fire on Wa's next target to break up any coordinated defense.

As the other members of Spearhead took to battle, Nicole stayed behind cover as she used her suit's computer to interface with the back door into High Charity's central computer network that Cortana had so graciously provided to the team, all the while covering the backs of the twins as they focused on supporting Wa and Rich. The Spearhead CO was immediately granted exclusive access to the Citadel's internal systems, including the anti-air batteries and internal sensors. Nicole grinned, now having up to the second knowledge on every single Covenant soldier in and around the citadel. The fortress's garrison amounted to around a battalion or so, mostly guards with light arms that were no match for Spearhead. And with communications all across High Charity now down, there won't be any reinforcements any time soon either. Using the macro that Cortana had left for her, Nicole quickly slaved the Citadel's internal sensors to the Spearheads' HUDs, marking the location of every single Covenant soldier in the fortress. In addition, she changed the target list of the anti-air batteries to any Covenant aircraft within its range while leaving instructions to defend the Mako drones and any UNDF crafts in the citadel's air defense zone.

But then Nicole noticed something curious: the Council of Masters, the Covenant's equivalent of HighCom where the highest ranked officers of the Covenant military were gathered, was in session in their secured chambers deep within the citadel's keep, apparently in boycott of the coming ceremonies for some odd reason. She quickly locked them in the chambers before they have a chance to figure out what's going on. They're in for one hell of a surprise.

As the survivors were finished off, though, more and more covenant guards rushed out of the keep and into the courtyard to contain the intruders. This time, they brought with them fuel rod cannons and light plasma turrets whilst lines of Jackals attempted to form a shield wall to protect their advancing comrades. Unfortunately for them, though, not only had Spearhead cleared their LZ, but the dozens of Mako drones in the sky now turned to make their attack run.

"Okay guys. I got this." Nicole commented as she directed the drones' 20mm helical rail autocannons and 120mm rockets to fire on the guards. Not surprisingly, though, her team all but ignored her and opened fire anyway with Wa charging straight into the maelstrom of steel and explosions, his blood lust in desperate need of venting. Before the drones even ceased fire, the team was already on the attack, quickly crossing the corpse strewn and cratered courtyard for the keep's entrance. The few covenant survivors retreated back into the keep and raised the force field over the entrance as they prepared another line of defense within the keep. Unfortunately, the shield was not networked into the overall citadel computer system.

They'll have to do this the old fashion way.

"Break it down!" Nicole ordered as she came to a stop.

The Spearhead CO then swapped her 12.7mm SCR for the Pulse Energy Cannon on her back. She quickly adjust the settings, switching the free electron laser cannon's settings from the normal thermal radiation blast to a high frequency electromagnetic burst. The Spearhead CO shouldered the cannon and gripped the handles, her gauntlet's power couplers streaming energy to the cannon's capacitors. Nicole fired the invisible EM burst straight at the keep's shielded entrance. The cold plasma field visibly wavered and weakened, but did not break. But then the rest of the team added their wrath to Nicole's. First came another 120mm shell and a shower of 12.7mm hypersonic self-sharpening tungsten slugs before Richard tossed a triethylaluminum incendiary grenade at the force field, covering the portal in a blistering 3000 degrees centigrade inferno. Finally, Wa slammed into the portal, smashing his hammer straight through the weakened field.

The team charged forth into the wide tunnel where they fell upon the last of the guards who were still trying to set up their hasty defense: a mere platoon's worth of grunts, jackals, and elites with a couple of light plasma turrets that were still in the process of being set up. Richard took the opportunity to rocket boost past the shock trooper and strike first, vaporizing the couple of elite majors who were leading the last ditch defense with another burst of triethylaluminum from his flamethrower. Then the Spearhead assault specialist drew his Arc Machete, darting from foe to another as he sliced them to pieces before Wa could even reach them. The last elite still standing, a golden clad officer who appeared to be the commandant of the garrison, sparked a plasma blade as it roared a challenge to Rich. But before Rich could charge to meet the challenge, Wa burst forth from behind him, having finally caught up and intent on smashing the elite into the wall with his shield.

"Hey, he's MINE!" Rich shouted as he sprung forward with the machete in hand to claim his kill.

But before either of the Spearheads or the elite could strike, a 12.7mm hypersonic round flew past Richard and Wa's head and decapitated the commandant.

Now both Spearheads turned to the origin of the shot.

"Hehehe." Steven cackled, his helmet's jaw piece still sporting a lit blunt as he cradled his rail rifle. "Good job guys, cause the way you made him stand still like that was AWESOME!"

The two aggrieved Spearheads could only growled maliciously towards the offender.

"Oh save it for the Covies, you three." Nicole interjected as she and Jonathan caught up with the team. "There are literally millions more not two kilometers away from us. And not to mention that we have a job to do. Now Johnny, get the big gun out of the Osprey and set it up."

"Hehehe, way ahead of ya, Nikki." Jonathan cackled as he headed back to the dropship.

Nicole now turned to Steven. "And why don't go up to the top of the keep and set up overwatch."

Steven then turned to follow his twin, cackling as he went. "Sure thing, Nikki. Just let me bring Mina out for the show."

Now Nicole turned to her two remaining teammates. "And as for us, we'll make a clean sweep of the keep."

With her own maniacal grin, Nicole pointed straight to the council chambers where she had locked the council within. "And I know just the place to start."

* * *

With the council chambers, the fifteen councilors and their aid-de-camps continued their efforts to pry the sealed entrance open. The council session had been interrupted when the occupants had first heard and later felt what seemed to be the effects of a fierce battle, something shocking both in the location of the citadel at the heart of High Charity and the fact that the chambers were acoustically insulated and protected by shields and thick stone walls. All attempts to leave or to contact the outside world had failed and the councilors had resorted to trying to cut through the thick doors with their plasma swords. Just as they were making some progress, though, the door began to open on its own accord. The rancid smoke from their cutting now began to rush outside as the councilors drew their swords and activated their personal shields. The finest soldiers of the Covenant empire readied themselves for battle.

But before they could even see anything, they first heard the signs of the madness to come. It was a hellish choir, one part a mind bending sadistic cackle and one part bone chilling primal growl. But there was also a third element: a light chuckle that sounded clearer and feminine and even amused. Then the councilors spotted what seemed like arcs of raw electricity as their skin and shields tingled from the electrostatic build up. Then they saw the silhouettes of three figure with varying heights.

Then came over the air what sounded like casual conversation.

"Oh, come on Nikki. I haven't thought of my usual witty one-liner yet."

"For fuck's sake, Rich. Let's just kill them already! We still have to do the broadcast."

"Ah, fine. I guess epic trolling and genocidal massacres will have to do. At least I got the speech for Phil ready."

"It's still not going to be enough to make it up to Phil... I mean don't get me started. What we did was just WRONG!"

Before the insanity of the situation fully dawned on the councilors, they were mercifully saved by Wa as the shock trooper tore through the smoke and smashed his hammer into the closest councilor before proceeding to do the same for the rest.

* * *

**1823 Hours, November 11th, 2552 (Military Calendar) / UNS **_**Pillar of Autumn**_**, Battlegroup Stanforth, X-3279 System, Sector 357.**

After more than two days of waiting in the hot Saturn's atmosphere, the two hundred plus ships of Battlegroup Stanforth finally emerged from the gas clouds. Before them, well over a thousand and a half of longswords and sabers charged forward to eliminate the local Covenant freighters and patrol corvettes. The fleet began to disperse with individual squadrons heading out in every direction. In the meantime, a dozen prowlers and hundreds of Clarion spy drones scattered about the system went to work, some laying nuclear mines while others frantically relaying real time information over a QEC com network with Admiral Stanforth's flagship on the Covenant fleet more than seven million kilometers away.

"Receiving final targeting data from the _Trafalgar_. Targeting solution complete. Countdown to firing has started." Lt. Hikowa declared.

"The Prowlers are finished laying the minefield. They're pulling back now." Lt. Hall added. "The fighter squadrons are pulling back behind us, captain. They're ready to light up as soon as we give the order."

"What's our target?" Captain Keyes demanded.

The main bridge display spawned a small window displaying the Autumn's assigned target: the lone CSO-class Covenant supercarrier. These monstrous ships came in a well over 28 kilometers in length and 11 kilometers at its widest, packing enough firepower to take on an entire fleet of UNSC warships. Usually, the appearance of a CSO-class effectively ended the battle in the Covenant's favor. Only one has been destroyed in the war so far. In this case, though, the UNDF has the advantage from surprise, concentration of force, and the possession of the opening move. Though their target was seven million kilometers away, the supercarrier was an awfully big target that was not at battle stations and it was cruising in a predictable manner. It'll be an easy enough shot for the fleet. More importantly, it was a necessary shot. Keyes knew that what the admiral was really trying to do was to cripple the Covenant fleet's command and control capability. Covenant Assault Carriers and Supercarriers usually served as both the flagship and as a mobile supply depot for Covenant squadrons. In the current situation, though, there was only one command ship for the entire fleet despite its size, probably as there was no need to have more than one carrier around to do anything more than to serve as a flagship. With Cortana's crippling of the station's computer network, the destruction of that carrier would decapitate to Covenant command and control system, at least for a while anyway.

"3...2...1. Firing!" Lt. Hikowa yelled.

Once again, the _Autumn_ lurched as three kinetic fusion rounds screamed out of its MAC. Those were quickly followed by hundreds more as the entire fleet opened up. More volleys followed soon after, targeting the High Charity's sub-light engines, docks facilities, shield generators, what moderate defenses on the surfaces, and anything else that might be a threat to the fleet. Finally, one more volley made towards one of the two main entry starship portal of the station.

It took more than a minute and a half for each volley cross the vast distance and hit its mark, leaving the crew to hold their breath for the results.

"Direct hits! Covenant supercarrier has been confirmed as destroyed, as are the station's engines. High Charity is not going anywhere." Wellesley declared.

The ship erupted with cheers. They had drawn first blood and the single deadliest foe on the battlefield had already been dispatched. However, the Captain knew well that the first strike here was a freebie. The prowler surveillance has already registered the Covenant fleet breaking cruising formation and maneuvering hard to avoid any further hits; they don't know what exactly what was going on, but they obviously knew that they were under some sort of attack.

The MAC volleys continued as hundreds more shells slammed into the station, exploiting the electronic chaos caused by Cortana to permanently cripple the station's defenses. It soon became obvious to the Covenant where the fire was coming from, prompting the defense fleet to move against the binary gas giants where the UNSC fleet was stationed. But it was a haphazard affair. Instead of moving as a single powerful mass formation, the Covenant ships were completely disorganized. The individual squadrons attempted to reform themselves into some sort of formation on the fly now that they were cut off from both High Charity and their command ship. More than a few dozen Covenant ships found themselves changing course multiple times due to new orders as their chain of command shifted back and forth. Still, the mass of Covenant ships inevitably moved towards the UNSC fleet.

"Receiving orders from the _Trafalgar_." Lt. Hall said. "All skirmish squadron commanders are to proceed as planned."

"Ensign Lowell, take us out to the skirmish line." Keyes ordered.

The fleet began to move to engage the Covenant vanguard. Seven squadrons, each centered on an upgraded Halcyon-B battlecruiser like the _Autumn _with the thirty Hussar class destroyers as their escorts, moved to engage as the older ships that formed the bulk of the fleet remained behind both to protect the weaker ships as well as to serve as a reserve. The Hussars quickly formed up to screen the fleet with both their weapons and their ECM networks. The fleet's fighter arm, almost eight hundred Longsword-Bs and an escort of two hundred Sabers, moved with the screening force to provide an immediate reserve for them. Finally, the fleet's five carriers, excluding Admiral Stanforth's flagship _Trafalgar_, followed the squadrons out of the L1 Lagrange Point between the two gas giants.

The battlegroup faced at least a hundred and sixty Covenant ships with nearly thirty of them being the fearsome CCS-class battlecruisers, long odds in any other situations. However, Keyes knew that the Admiral's plan to maintain a tactical defense gave them the advantage for now. The Covenant fleet was still disorganized and spread out. With the slipspace disruption field still effect, the Covenant would have to approach at sublight speed. With the prowlers acting as forward observers, the Covenant ships would run straight into the superior long range firepower of the battlegroup. Moreover, having the fleet's back to the gas giants prevent the Covenant from jumping in close even after the disruption field is down and to use the planets' strong gravity to turn and retreat quickly. In addition, the hot Jupiter's high thermal and EM output only added to the UNSC ships' ECM screen, making them near impossible to target accurately. Finally, the new ships and weapons of the fleet and the quality of their crews further equalized the situation.

The minutes ticked by as the bridge crew watched the Covenant fleet get closer and closer. With every million kilometers closed, the Covenant tightened their ranks to cut off any escape route. For their part, though, the screening force was now floating in the company of dozens of nuclear mines that had been laid before the battle. The mines were stealthed, invisible to the cold of space and awaiting its detonation signal.

It was a trap. The only question was who was going to be the victim.

"Covenant fleet is approaching stand off range, Captain." Lt. Hall reported.

Keyes nodded in response before Wellesley spoke up. "The _Dragoon, Cataphract, _and the _Mangudai's_ targeting systems are slaved to ours, sir. We are ready to fire."

"Then fire at will." The Captain commanded.

At forty two thousand kilometers, the skirmish line of UNSC ships began their barrage. There were no intricate maneuvers to be had here. This was a fleet engagement in open space. Waves of Archer, Firestorm, Harpoon, and ECM missiles preceded another barrage of kinetic fusion MAC fire. The bulk of the missile fire came not from the cruisers and destroyers but from the carriers, allowing the smaller ships to save their smaller magazines for later encounters. With the sheer distance and the effectiveness of the ECM screen, the Covenant could offer no response other than to steel themselves for the impending hits. One by one, the Covenant ships blinked away from the _Autumn's_ sensors with nearly all thirty of the first wave's CCS-class battlecruisers destroyed.

However, more and more Covenant ships quickly took their place and added to the weight of Covenant ships bearing down the battlegroup. Moreover, the Covenant was more or less beginning to regroup and respond to the UNSC formation and tactical deployment. The captain could see that the enemy was attempting a 3-D envelopment maneuver, a fairly basic steamrolling tactic based a dome-like concave deployment to bring the maximum number of guns on the battlegroup as the Covenant attempt to close in for the kill. In addition, the Covenant fleet was sending a massive fighter strike at the battlegroup, literally thousands of seraph fighters and phantom gunboats. Though simplistic, the 3-D envelopment would work were it not for two reasons. First, the Covenant fleet before them was still too disorganized to effectively carry out their plan; gaps in their battle plane were forming as the individual Covenant squadrons failed to effectively coordinate amongst themselves. Second, the envelopment only works if the target is fixed in its position. Neither the Captain nor the Admiral intend to stay put and fight here.

"Lt. Lovell, reverse thrust, 20 percent. Ease us off but mind the gravity." Keyes commanded. "Lt. Hall, copy to our escorts."

The stations acknowledged their orders and the _Autumn_ and her escorts began to slowly back up towards the rest of the battlegroup. The other skirmish squadrons quickly followed suit. As they did, the first of the Covenant fighters finally closed to firing range with their enemies, meeting the fighters of the screening force in a head on exchange of fire. The melee was quickly broken up, though, as the screen of Hussars opened fire with their point defense lasers, something that the Covenant fighters did not know the humans had as were the Mk1 shields that absorbed the return fire. The Longsword-Bs and the sabers broke their formations and went after their assigned targets. The heavy interceptors used their superior speed to blast past the Covenant fighter screen and went straight for the phantom gunboats. But as more and more Covenant fighters and gunboats poured in, the screening force accelerated their withdrawal to the L1 Lagrange point with the rest of the battlegroup. Their little excursion had serve its purpose of inflicting losses on the Covenant fleet's vanguard and drawing out the bulk of the Covenant fighters.

"Captain, the last of our fighters and ships have cleared the mine field." Lt. Hall reported.

The Captain nodded. "Detonate the mines."

Within the space just outside of the binary planet's center of mass, dozens of nuclear mines lit up, consuming the thousands of seraphs and phantoms pursuing the UNSC fleet. There was a collective sigh on the part of the _Autumn's_ bridge crew. Now the real game was afoot. The Covenant knew from experience that mine fields were a one time use defense. Even though they hadn't know that there was nuclear mine field before and it had cost them most of their fighters, they now knew that there wasn't one there now. At any other time in the war, the Covenant would be right. But the Captain knew that this time was different. A far more powerful mine field awaited his enemy.

The Covenant fleet now divided itself evenly into a ring of sort to cut off the entrances to the gravimetric valley between the two gas giants. Once they were in position, they made for the L1 Lagrange point, intent on steamrolling all opposition before them in one fell swoop. But far from moving to meet the Covenant onslaught, the UNDF ships made for the small rocky moon hovering between the two gas giants, packing themselves tightly together as if they were taking cover.

"Incoming transmission from the _Trafalgar_." Lt. Hall reported before she routed the message to audio.

"This is the Admiral to all ships. You have 3 minutes to lock your ships down and prepare for a massive EM burst. Maintain your current speed and orbit at all cost."

The battlegroup did as ordered. As the minutes passed, the combatants of both sides saw their sensors overwhelmed by a series of massive EM bursts emanating from the hot Saturns' puffy atmosphere. One by one, the Nova bombs that had been earlier placed there detonated. Each bomb's 219 gigaton yield was reflected and focused by the hot Saturn's atmosphere towards the advancing Covenant ships. The closest ships, well over a hundred of them, were instantly vaporized. The remaining four hundred and fifty or so ships found their systems disabled by the massive EM overload, forcing them to cycle their shipwide system restart. Some ships were outright crippled and fell under the gas giants' gravitational influence, slowly plummeting to their deaths.

It was at this point that the UNSC battlegroup emerged from behind the cover of the small moon.

And then came the order from the _Trafalgar._

"All ships, fire at will!"


	29. Chapter 29

**Disclaimer: I can't believe that this still has to be said, but Halo belongs to 343 Industries. Any attempts to sue the author will net you at most one of my doomsday devices (Go ahead and take, I have more!). **

A/N: Before you begin, I do have an admission to make: I don't really know the proper protocol to calling in artillery fire or how the gun captain directs the gun. I didn't have the chance to do the proper research thanks to summer classes. Don't expect that part to be accurate.

And a quick note: TBX means Thermobaric Explosive or basically a fuel air bomb. You'll see it down there.

Also, make your offerings to Tikigod at the your local temple for his Beta work.

* * *

_"Thus, the highest form of warfare is to attack the enemy's strategy. The next best is to attack his alliances. The next is to attack his forces. The worst is to attack his fortifications." - Sun Tzu, The Art of War._

* * *

**1908 Hours, November 11th, 2552 (Military Calendar) / UNS ****_Trafalgar_****, Battlegroup Stanforth, X-3279 System, Sector 357.**

"All ships. Fire at will!"

And so, the admiral unleashed the dogs of war.

On the holotable in the CIC of the supercarrier, Admiral Stanforth watched as the two hundred ships of his battlegroup finally unleashed their full firepower upon the Covenant fleet. The closest Covenant ships which suffered the greatest damage from the Nova blasts fell victim first. Archer and Firestorm missile fire took out the disabled ships' weapons and engine before the rain of fire moved on to their next targets; the battlegroup was content to let the two gas giants' gravity finish the job. Still, the Covenant ships kept coming. The real action was now among the Covenant ships that survived the blast in still battle worthy condition. These tended to be the heavier ships who weren't in the vanguard, mostly the cruisers and battlecruisers along with their rear escorts. Two particularly large concentrations of battlecruisers formed on the northern and southern hemispheric orbit of the hot Saturn, around which many other surviving lighter ships of the vanguard congregated as they collectively resumed their advance at the UNSC fleet. Having learned their lesson the hard way, the Covenant ships threw their all available power into their engine to close as quickly as possible with their enemies even at the cost of losing their cohesion. Each of the two forces amounted to around a hundred ships. During the early phase of the battle, the long range firepower of the admiral's cruisers, the ECM screen, the slipspace disruption field, and the long range target spotting by the Prowlers combined to allow just a few UNSC ships to take on a far greater number of their Covenant counterparts. But with the closing distance between the combatants that was bringing his ships into plasma torpedo range, the next engagement would require the full weight of the battlegroup's fire for the admiral to triumph. He couldn't take them both on at the same time without losing too many ships and endangering the operation. Fortunately, Stanforth had an ace up his sleeve. With the Covenant fighters all but neutered, his fighters were free to strike.

The admiral turned to his aides. "I want the entire carrier group to launch against the northern force. Have the cruiser squadrons under Keyes, Abe, and Gorchakov move in to provide support fire. The rest of the fleet will engage the southern force."

As the aides disseminated the admiral's order, Stanforth looked to the last two cards that he has yet to play. The first was the _Leviathan_. Despite Colonel Yang's best efforts, the cruiser was far too damaged and irradiated to recover and repair in time to join this fight. But the admiral's old flagship still have one last mission to fulfill once the time comes. For now, the crippled warship remains floating in the hot Saturn's atmosphere, her remaining functions fully automated. The other card was the _Truth and Reconciliation_, which was cruising besides the _Leviathan_. The captured Covenant battlecruiser, having been stripped of all things of value by Colonel Yang, is also to be expended in this battle, not as a weapon or a warship but as a chariot. But unlike the Leviathan, her time will come very soon.

For now, the Admiral could do little but watch as his fleet split off to engage the two Covenant formations. The _Trafalgar_ herself, along with the six other carriers of the fleet, opened fire with missile batteries and MACs. Under the torrent of missiles overloading the point defenses of the northern formation and cruiser squadrons picking off the pickets, almost seven hundred Longsword-Bs packing Harpoon torpedoes and Javelin IGE missiles closed with the northern formation behind a screen of ECM missiles. Meanwhile, the southern formation finally made it through the hail of missiles and MAC rounds and clashed with the bulk of the UNSC fleet, resulting in a furious exchange of fire as the Covenant fleet finally managed to land hits on the humans, the ECM screens of the Hussars and Halcyon-Bs and the restricted approach of the gas giants' gravity well made those hits far and few between. By the end of this battle pulse, both Covenant formations were laid to ruin. However, they took twenty Longsword-Bs and two Charon class frigates with them, along with serious damage on three Tribal-class destroyers.

Battles, even those in space, were rarely a continuous affair. With the Covenant attack utterly broken and the UNSC fighters having expended their ordinance, the Admiral knew that this battle pulse was over. That's not to say, however, that the battle itself was over as the Covenant still outnumbered the UNSC fleet beyond the binary gas giants. Moreover, the remaining Covenant ships (just under 300 ships) seemed to have finally organized themselves into a blockade around the gas giants. It was as if natural selection had eliminated the overzealous and incompetent captains of the Covenant fleet who were stupid enough to attack the UNSC fleet in such as strong position, leaving only the capable and competent to contain the humans in their corner. And Stanforth knew that they were taking the correct course of action for he'd eventually have to come out of his strong defensive position and attack. Moreover, the prowlers were registering a slow if steady influx of Covenant ships into the system, exiting slipspace outside the heliosphere to avoid the slipspace disruption field before making the long journey into the system via sub-light. All this meant that the next battle pulse will have the Covenant in a stronger position even with fewer ships. Sorties could be made to inflict more losses on the defense fleet to buy more time, but the fact remains that there is now a window of time before the Covenant fleet once again become too strong to challenge. Everything now depended on the ground assets.

But for now, the only thing both sides can do is to regroup, rearm, and wait. But for one ship that has been out of the battle so far, the time for action was now.

The Admiral turned to aides once more. "Give the green light to the _Truth and Reconciliation_."

* * *

As the scattered survivors of the Covenant fleet fell back to the cordon, the captured CCS-class battlecruiser slipped out from the smokey atmosphere of the hot Saturn and made towards the Covenant lines. With the defense fleet's command and control gone, squadron commanders were not able to confirm that she wasn't one of the hundreds of ships that had participated in the battle, nor were they in any position to turn away what seemed to be a friendly. The battlecruiser was welcomed into their ranks as one of their own. The ship showed grievous battle wounds with virtually all her weapons gutted and sporting multiple gashes in her hull. Incapable of mounting a fight, the battlecruiser was ordered to make for High Charity's external dockyards for repairs.

Within the massive internal storage bay of the battlecruiser, twelve of the UNDFSC's latest Spitfire-class corvettes lay in waiting along with the entire 7th Marine Regimental Combat Team and 2nd battalion of the 1059th ODST Regiment. Their target is nothing less than one of the Hierarchs of the Covenant.

* * *

**1901 Hours, November 11th, 2552 (Military Calendar) / Covenant Holy City ****_High Charity_****, X-3279 System, Sector 357.**

With the fortress cleared and the swarm of Mako drones covering them, the Spearheads went to work. In the small inner courtyard right in front of the central keep, Jonathan placed the last of his demolition charges even as Nicole routed the power cable from a coupler inside the keep that normally powered the Covenant installation. Steven was running back and forth between the keep and the crashed Osprey, lugging boxes and boxes of ammo and... other items that one would not normally associate with a Spartan formation. Among his collection was the box carrying the _Eargesplitten Loudenboomer_ _Mk IV_ Precision Helical Rail Cannon and a rather large black flag.

With a maniacal cackle, Jonathan pulled the remote detonator from his belt and triggered the charges. Now right before the central keep, there was now a large hole in the stone masonry roughly 10 meters in radius and two meters deep.

"Alright, Wa. Bring it in!" Jonathan shouted.

From the wreckage, Wa-514 emerged, dragging a massive 200mm helical rail howitzer behind him. With Nicole and Jonathan's help, the three quickly set the massive artillery piece up and plugged the power cable into its coupler. The gun now had a sight on most of the city as well as the exterior wall and causeway, the latter requiring an indirect arc. The three then bolted back to the Osprey to lug the shells to feed the gun and another device that they installed right next to the gun carriage. It was a defensive device originally designed by Doctor Halsey, perfected by Serena herself, and finally deployed into the field for Marine artillery crews. The device had a cylindrical shape with a spherical top and a three legged metallic stand. A power port extended from the side where Nicole linked a cable into the howitzer.

In the meantime, the final member of Spearhead collected the last of the Covenant dead in to a small hill that rested right in front of the big gun. Richard cleared his throat one final time, relaxing himself as the camera drone floating in front of him awaited the signal to begin the broadcast.

With the last of the preparation done, it was time to spread the word.

Nicole checked the broadcast feed one last time before she gave the order. "And we're live!"

Richard grinned underneath his helmet as camera drone's light turned green, broadcasting a image of him standing in front of the pile of corpses before the interior walls of the citadel.

"Achtung! Wretched denizens of High Charity. Your destruction is the will of our janitor Phil, and we are his instruments. No, Phil is not a god, but he is that awesome. Oh, by the way Phil. Listen, we're really, REEEAAALLLY sorry about that mess we left in hangar bay 3. Honestly, we did not know that a few out-of-tune grav plates, a hydrogen cracker, a bag of Brazil nuts, and a couple of three bean wet burritos could do THAT. We really hope this makes up for it, man. YOU'RE THE BEST!"

The camera then panned towards the highest tower of the keep. At the apex stood a flag waving in the wind bearing the Spearhead Team battle emblem: a black flag bearing a human skull that bore an amused, indeed hilariously laughing demeanor that was even tilted at an angle before the background of a white mushroom cloud.

The twins joined Richard in the video. The three then took their helmets off, revealing a trio of maniacal grins as they snapped a crisp salute to the flag high above.

The cries of outrage could be heard from within the Citadel's walls, along with what sounded like a stampede heading towards the fortress.

Nicole cut the feed before turning to her team.

"Alright, boys. Get into your positions. Time to get to work."

The Spearheads were to do two of the things that they do best: providing a distraction that the Covenant simply could not ignore and bringing raw firepower to the fight to grind them to dust.

After all, no one ever expects an artillery strike from within a space station.

* * *

With Nicole's go-ahead, Jonathan scrambled over to his howitzer. Normally, 200mm gun would require a crew of at least five in addition to an autoloader to properly man and feed the howitzer: a gun captain, two ammunition bearers, a radio operator, a spotter. Also, the mechanic for the inevitable problems in the field would make six. Fortunately for the operation, Jonathan held the record in the fastest rate of fire of any gun crew in the UNDF. Even more impressive was the fact that Jonathan had gotten that record just by himself, being able to load the shells, aim the gun, and calculate the firing solution all by his lonesome; the final kicker was that he did it without either an autoloader or a targeting computer. Considering that Jonathan was a Spartan, the former two were not particularly impressive tasks. Instead, it was the latter two that made this achievement all the more impressive, being able to multi-task half a dozen other tasks whilst crunching complex kinematic and aerodynamic equations that take into account variable gravity, atmospheric pressure and density, relative motion of the gun and the target, and the condition of the gun's barrel among other factors.

The secret, at least according to Jonathan, is that he doesn't actually do it alone.

Right next to the howitzer's targeting computer, yet another hamster stood awaiting Jonathan. This particular rodent sported an old 19th Century Prussian Army uniform, specifically one of a Field Marshal that was complete with a baton in hand and a sheathed saber on its hip. The rodent was busying himself writing on a tiny notepad with a quill pen, occasionally looking at the monitor to update its calculations. On its tiny body, the hamster had a Wilhelmine era curly mustache, a telescope on its belt, numerous medals on its chest, and a monocle on its left eye. A graying coat of fur that betrayed its old age. Finally, it had a pickelhaube helmet secured on its tiny head.

"Okay, Johnny boy. We have the targeting solution ready on the first power node about 14 clicks from here." The hamster declared in a squeak voice laced with a thick Prussian accent.

"Yes, Sir. Field Marshal Von Mausenstein." The Spearhead explosive expert opened the breech of the gun and loaded one of the two hundred kilogram plasma-yield induced gamma emission shell, each packing a variable explosive yield going from sub-kiloton to upwards of 3 kilotons. The field marshal proceeded to feed Jonathan the proper targeting solution as the gun itself drew power from the fortress into its capacitors and turned itself to its first target. In addition, the cylindrical device attached to the gun's power station began to glow and spin, exuding an electrostatic charge not unlike when a personal plasma shield is spinning up.

The hamster drew its saber. "Raise shields!"

Jonathan complied. A translucent geodesic bubble appeared, encompassing the gun, its ammunition, and its crew as the Spearhead took the gun's ignition cord in hand. The shield, though strong, was not invincible. However, it was strong enough that anything that could breach it would also wipe out the entire fortress, rendering any consideration beyond that pointless.

Finally, the marshal swung its saber. "Feuer!"

With a yank of the cord, the bubble shield dropped for a split second as the helical rail artillery piece spat its shell out, leaving a supersonic shockwave in its wake. The guided ordinance flew across the city's airspace and slammed into one of the many power nodes that kept the city running, erupting into a 3 kiloton explosion. Immediately, sections of the city dimmed as lights failed and the noise of everyday life ground to a halt. Most importantly for the operation, the much vaunted gravity lift network that could transport one from one side of the holy city to another in a matter of minutes sputtered and failed, dropping many a passengers to their ignominious demise. Within a few seconds, however, the city's backups kicked in as the power system automatically attempted to reroute power.

Back at the citadel, the Marshal and its one man gun crew studied the readouts together as Jonathan frantically readied the next shot.

"Ja! Ja! Good effect! Target neutralized. Gotten Himmel, I love these new shells!" The hamster shouted. "Now onto the next target. Coordinates: Grid LC 343 707. Target: power node 119. IGE: 1 round."

"Got it!" Johnny shouted as adjust the gun accordingly before quickly loading a new plasma-yield shell.

"Feuer!"

"Shot: out!" Jonathan shouted as he sent the next shell off.

Within just 20 seconds or so, another plasma-yield round slammed into another critical target. And another. And another. Transportation hubs, communications, power, AA installations, garrisons, armories, and any amassed formations of Covenant ground troops found themselves getting hammered by artillery fire. With just a single Spartan and a 200mm artillery piece, the Spearheads have made sure that they were both an insult and a threat to the entire holy city. Without the need for any prompting, any available Covenant warriors made their way towards the citadel, screaming for the blood of the humans who would dare to wreak such devastation upon holy grounds. There were, of course, far too many targets for even Jonathan to hit to stop a Covenant response, but the carefully planned barrage was drawing the Covenant ground forces away from the other Spartan teams upon whom the mission depended. In addition, the barrage was laying to waste the critical infrastructure necessary for the Covenant to mount an effective defense of the city once the real aim of the operation becomes apparent.

But back at the citadel itself, the atmosphere couldn't be more different.

"So what took you so long to get here, Freidrich?" Jonathan queried as he cycled the gun.

"Eh, the Kaiser didn't want to let his best commander of the artillery go, even for a while."

Jonathan was shocked by that news. "But I thought you had retired last year?"

Before the hamster could respond, the Citadel's AA guns opened up as waves of phantom dropships attempted to assault the fortress from the air, only to be sent crashing into the ground in glorious fireballs.

"Ah, Johnny, you should know this by now. A Prussian field marshal is always on duty! Anyway, it took a personal appeal from Crown Prince Wilhelm to convince the Kaiser to let me go."

"Oh, well remind me to write Wilhelm a thank-you letter when we get back. I couldn't have done this without you."

Before Jonathan and his hallucination could continue the conversation, another hail came over the com channel. It was from Blue team. More hails came in, this time from Red and Noble teams as they identified critical targets for the coming fight.

"One minute, please." Jonathan offered before switching to Blue team's channel. "Spearhead artillery service. Your target vaporized in 30 seconds or less or double the shells you ordered."

* * *

Back at the Forerunner structure at the center of the city, there was another struggle between the humans and the Covenant. Inside the Key Ship, the five Spartans of Blue Team awaited the giant doors before them to open. Behind them, a single Covenant engineer followed, fiddling with the door's controls to make it open faster. Already, they could hear a furious exchange of fire with Covenant carbines and particle rifles on one side and a helical rail rifle on the other. They were regularly interrupted by the distant thunder of Spearhead team's artillery strikes.

When the doors finally opened, Commander-117 led his team out into the courtyard. For the last five minutes, Linda had turned the massive plaza before them into a shooting gallery. The area was littered with the bodies of the guards that attempted to rush the Key Ship and the wreckage of half a dozen banshees and hundreds of plasma scorch marks. John would hazard a guess that Linda had shot all the Banshees down with her helical rail rifle. It wouldn't be the first time and the hypersonic self-sharpening tungsten slugs from her rifle would make it even easier than before for Linda's superhuman marksmanship. Curiously, though, there were no telltale craters of fuel rod bursts or plasma mortar impacts, which was another confirmation of John's hypothesis upon which the entire battle revolved around: the Covenant would not use heavy weapons around their sacred artifacts and landmarks for fear of damaging them, especially when they have so much expendable manpower around to throw at the Spartans.

Aside from the Banshees, the Covenant had mustered ground forces to take back the Key Ship. Off in the distance, John could see dozens of brutes, elites, and their assorted lower infantry walking over dozens more of their own dead in an attempt to force their way through across the light bridge linking the ship to the rest of the city. They had already taken the first of the two islands linking the sections of the bridge together, though they weren't able to push pass the middle section of the light bridge. Looking up, John could see that Linda was moving from cover to cover, moving among the outcroppings and beams of the ship while using her cloak to make her effectively invisible at such ranges. She had also lit several flares above and around her position to conceal her shadow and to blind the Covenant sharpshooters gunning for her. Combined with a hypersonic rail rifle, self-sharpening tungsten slugs, and more than a kilometer and half between them and her, Linda owned the approach to the Key Ship. And as they were unwilling to use heavy weapons to blast her out, the Covenant had no chance of dislodging her.

"About time." Linda started curtly over the com channel. "Orders, commander?"

"Hold your position for now. We'll take up position on the first island. Once we're in place, double time over to us."

"Copy that." Linda responded.

The commander turned to Kelly. "Take the rest of the team and secure the first island. I will stay behind to escort the VIP."

While the other four members of the team left for the bridge. John turned around to face the engineer that was coming with them. The creature was still absconding behind the massive doors of the Key Ship, its serpentine head barely poking out over its cover to watch the events unfolding. The Spartan picked up a plasma rifle from a dead elite and offered it to the cowering alien.

"Take this and stay out of the line of fire. Use it only if you have to."

Instead of taking the weapon, the alien vehemently shook its head before releasing a series of screeching noises.

And then Cortana spoke. "It said that it had promised to help you, but it won't fight."

John suppressed a groan before turning back the alien. "Don't be afraid. I'm not asking you to fight. I just need you to protect yourself in case something gets through us."

The creature screeched another message for Cortana to translate.

"Oh...okay then."

"What?" The commander demanded.

"Our friend here said that it won't fight even to protect itself. Apparently, these engineers are all pacifists."

John couldn't restrain the groan this time. Of course the one time he needed an alien to pick up a gun and fight, it turns out to be a pacifist!

"You're not making this easy." John muttered towards the engineer.

The engineer blinked its four eyes several times before squealed, releasing a familiar electrostatic charge. Then an orange glow covered its bulbous form as a personal shield spun up around it. Finally, it began to disappear until all that was left was a barely visible translucence floating in the air.

The Spartan was silent for a moment before he nodded. "That works too."

The five Spartans and their VIP broke into the ruined remains of the plaza, descending down one terrace of steps after another as they weaved back and forth between rubble and statues. John kept towards the rear of the column and did his best to simultaneously keep the cloaked engineer in reach while trying not to give away to the Covenant soldiers that he was protecting a VIP. At least a platoon's worth of elites, jackals, and brutes still stuck on the first island were pouring rifle, needle, and fuel rod fire at the Spartans, but the poor quality of their marksmanship at that range was telling; nor did it help that Linda prevented any of them from taking the time to line up a decent shot. Finally, the fuel rod gunners seemed cautious to the extreme, firing only when the Spartans weren't behind any statues or other artifacts or relics. For their part, the Spartans' superhuman marksmanship, their utter lack of restrictions in targets, and the quality of their SCRs and rail rifles meant that they reached the emitters with little more than a few scratches on their shields while the Covenant ranks were decimated. Reinforcements, however, were pouring over the first segment of the light bridge. A squad of elite rangers with jumpjets attempted to retake the closer island by air but they were picked off midair by Linda, prompting more footborne attempts to by jackal shield walls to force their way through.

But once Blue team arrived at the first segment of the light bridge leading to the closer island, the game changed once more.

"Hostile dropships inbound! Local radio chatter has a squadron of Phantoms lifting off from a local garrison and they're headed straight for us." Cortana declared as the AI placed markers on the commander's HUD with a distance counter, placing the the formation some 12 kilometers away and closing. More Banshees came with them, the attack crafts flying in a massed formation with the intent of making one giant strafing run. Not even Linda could shoot them all down before they arrived, nor could she stop the Phantoms from dropping at least a company of Covenant soldiers around them.

Fortunately, the Spartans have a very big gun in the Citadel of the Council of Masters that was awaiting fire missions.

John raised the com channel to Spearhead team and hailed Jonathan. Normally, the observer would identify themselves and the mission type before the gun's operator would even speak, but Jonathan beat the commander to the punch.

"Spearhead artillery service. Your target vaporized in 30 seconds or less or double the shells you ordered." Jonathan begun.

Even Cortana could feel John's irritation at the Spearheads, prompting the AI to intervene. "I guess I'll take it from here."

John simply nodded as he raised his SCR and got back into the firefight. Cortana ignored Jonathan's muttering and went straight to business, skipping the normal call sign identification. "AA suppression. Coordinates: Grid DF 147 714. Target: Covenant airborne squadron. TBX Proximity: 2 round."

"Gotcha!" Jonathan replied. "Shot: out!"

Not five seconds later, Blue team heard another two rounds fire off, prompting the Spartans to take cover. This time, though, the shells read its radar output of its target grid and adjust its path to take it as close as possible to the Covenant air group. Once they were just about a hundred meters right in front of the formations, the TBX warheads detonated, releasing a cloud of powdered aluminum that was dispersed by an initial explosive. Milliseconds later, when the fuel air mixture reached optimal ratio, a second explosive triggered the real explosion right in front of the Banshees. Another shell detonated right in the midst of the Phantoms with the second fuel air explosion eliminating the last of the bandits in the air.

With the airborne threat dealt with, the Spartans continued their attack, rushing forward to take the first island before they dug in. Each of the two islands were merely glorified multi-tiered platforms with hard light emitters at the edges and a towering plasma conduit at the center that linked the islands together like an old fashion suspension bridge. The raised platforms off to the side housed the anti-grav emitters and other machinery. There were also modest walls and guard rails surrounding the edges for safety purposes. The four Spartans took up positions facing the second island and the final segment of the light bridge, bringing the full weight of the team's firepower on the remaining Covenant warriors before them. Machine gun and 50mm grenade fire from Will's SAW and John's SCR broke up another phalanx of jackals and elites, sending them down into the abyss. With the rest of the team in position, Linda finally gave up her sniper's nest and dashed for the island.

Now was the time for the next phase of their escape. First, the commander searched the island for both the engineer that had accompanied them and for the one that had stayed behind on the island during their trip in. The Spartan found both of them in cloak behind one of the two anti-grav emitters on the port side. With two of the three the VIPs secured, John proceeded to strip the dead jackals littering the ground of their wrist shields and the other dead of Covenant plasma grenades and power cells before passing them out to his teammates. John was relieved that he had found enough of the wrist shield devices around. There were plenty of them on the _Truth and Reconciliation_, but they couldn't risk bringing them along for fear of the devices' EM emissions compromising their stealth.

The commander then turned to Kelly. "You ready?"

Amidst the furious exchange of plasma and bullets, Kelly stiffly turned to face her commander. Even with her helmet on, John knew that she was glaring daggers at him. As with their earlier foray in the thermal pipes, this was also John's idea. The commander knew that, somehow, Kelly is going to make him pay for it later.

Finally, she sighed. "You know, this is the part of the plan I don't trust."

"Trust me, this will work." John replied as he loaded smoke grenades into the magazine of his rifle's launcher while Kelly mounted a grappler from her belt onto her right arm gauntlet. The device readied its nanotube cable and powerful electromagnet harpoon. Finally, Kelly checked to make sure that both her SCR and her automatic shotgun had full magazines.

Kelly withdrew to the far starboard side platform, reengaged her cloak, and kneeled down to a runner's stance. It was a good hiding spot as the area was very hot and electromagnetically radiant thanks to the emitters and easily hid whatever emissions the cloak might have left out.

"Ready!" Kelly shouted.

The Commander now turned to the other members of the team. "Form up!"

With that, James, Joshua, Linda, and Will all activated their captured jackal wrist shields and assembled into a shield wall on the light bridge. John himself formed up behind them before activating his adaptive defense gauntlet, courtesy of Nicole and the Spearheads. For added protection, they activated their assault shields, making their personal shields glow in the same light as the jackal shields (not that it mattered at the moment considering how conspicuous they already were). This particular wrist shield was different from the run of the mill jackal shields the other had. The protective field reshaped itself to hold on to his rifle with both hands and fire as he normally would.

The Spartan phalanx then moved out onto the light bridge, which was still strewn with dozens of Covenant dead from the many attempts to push pass Linda's long range helical rail rifle fire. Slowly, they advanced into the hail of plasma, relying on John alone to return fire. The commander quickly dumped the smoke grenades from his rifle's launcher, creating a protective smokescreen for his team. The Covenant simply responded by firing blindly into the smoke and tossing plasma grenades and overloading power cells, expecting the Spartans to rush forward in the confusion.

But the Spartans have other plans.

"Kelly, now!" John ordered as he continued his barrage into the platform with overloaded power cells and plasma grenades to soften up resistance.

Kelly decloaked and sprinted forward in a mad dash towards the edge of the edge of the upper platform. The Spartan leaped off over the edge, the height and gravity adding to her impressive speed. Kelly twisted her body in the air and shot her wrist mounted grapple onto the bottom of the island, its powerful electromagnetic harpoon attaching itself to the metallic surface. Immediately, the extreme centripetal force ripped into Kelly's arm as she was swung around the island and back up into the air in a giant revolution. Even before she stalled out, she twisted body once more to angle her path to the next island, all the while praying that she would not overshoot. Activating her HUD's thermographic overlay, the Spartan aimed herself at the elite that seemed to be leading the Covenant troops on the island.

Back on the bridge, John saw Kelly shooting through the air and into the smoke. The sound of gun fire afterward was all confirmation the commander needed.

"Break!" John order. "Cortana, we need suppression fire on the other end of the bridge!"

The Spartans deactivated their wrist shields and broke their phalanx, charging through the smoke and onto the island. Their targets were laid out before them in thermographic overlay with their shields weakened by the barrage of exploding power cells, giving them an advantage that they exploited to the hilt as they quickly mowed down all opposition before them. As they moved in, another 200mm TBX round slammed into the far end of the chasm where at least an entire Covenant battalion must have amassed. The fuel air explosion vaporized the tightly packed ranks of warriors and threw many into the chasm. More shells came, leaving the battalion impotent and the last island vulnerable to the Spartans' assault. What few survivors nonetheless attempted to cross the final section of the light bridge and onto the island even as the Spartans took control of the central platform.

Falling in behind the cover of the short wall facing the city, John turned to his team. "Secure the entrance. We'll hold here until the VIPs catch up with us. I'll go sweep the platform and find the last engineer."

The team formed up into another defensive line on the entrance to the light bridge and held off the few disorganized rabble who had survived the bombardment. The shattered Covenant battalion's numbers, however, were being steadily augmented by Covenant civilians who had arrived on the scene and picked up the weapons of their dead that littered the courtyard beyond. Even the sustained firepower from both the team and the occasional 200mm shell failed to dissuade the overzealous grunts and elites from pouring in, setting up light plasma turrets and filling holes in their line.

This was exactly what John was afraid of: an endless flow of armed bloodthirsty Covenant civilians. Though the Spartans have no compunction against killing them, the civilians' lack of training or sense of self-preservation would make them both unpredictable and a massive drain on the Spartans' ammunition. With renewed haste, John searched the adjacent platforms until he found the last engineer cowering in cloak in one of the crevices of the emitters, hiding in the electromagnetic interference from the devices.

The commander turned to the alien. "Come on. Let's get...!"

Before the Spartan could finish, his peripheral vision caught a shimmer in air.

"Look out!" Cortana shouted as pulled back just in time to avoid a very long plasma blade swiping down at him. As the Spartan slid to a halt, another elite, this one an honor guard that was among those guarding the entrance to the key ship, materialized in the air. On its otherwise ornate armor was what John recognized as a standard Covenant cloaking device haphazardly grafted onto the Covenant warrior's armor. In its hand was a weapon that no human have yet seen: it was some sort of staff or pike roughly a meter in length. On one end was an electrode similar to the ones found on Covenant plasma small arms. However, this particular electrode emitted a single long blade of white hot plasma which was at least another meter in length. On the other end of the pike was a weight or compartment of some sort, probably housing the batteries for the weapon.

As John raised his rifle to fire, the honor guard pointed the pike straight at the commander and pushed a button near the forward grip. In an instant, the plasma blade spat out a large plasma bolt straight towards the Spartan. Though John easily dodged the large plasma bolt, the resulting explosion behind him threw the Spartan violently onto the ground.

When John recovered his footing and drew his sidearm, the elite was gone once more. John mentally groaned as he failed to find his SCR. Whatever that elite was using, it had a massive concussive blast, though from the relatively light burn damage on the floor, there was little thermal output. It was like a fuel rod blast but without the heat.

"Careful, commander. That elite is using a plasma pike." Cortana warned. "I just found the specs on that thing in the Covenant database I stole."

"What can you tell me?" John demanded just as the elite decloaked again, this time behind the emitter where it fired another shot that barely missed the evading Spartan, though it forced John closer to the edge of the platform.

"That thing is meant for crowd control. In addition to the blade, it can fire a mid-range plasma bolt that creates a lot more concussion force than thermal damage. It's reserved for the Honor Guards who protect the Prophets and holy relics."

"Any weaknesses?"

"Yes! That pike can fire a concussive blast about every 7 seconds. Firing it overheats the damn thing's coils, but the blade doesn't go away unless it's turned off or out of power."

Not two seconds later, another blast of plasma streaked towards the ground right before the commander. On the edge of the platform and unable to dodge without either falling or exposing himself, the Spartan instinctively activated his Adaptive Combat Gauntlet's wrist shield and braced himself. Though the shield held, John once again found himself blown back and almost rolling over the edge, his pistol now missing as well. The elite leaped on the opportunity to finish off the Spartan, closing upon the commander and pinning its giant hoofed feet on John's left arm where his wrist shield was active. With a triumphant roar, the alien lifted its pike to deliver the finishing blow.

Time slowed to a crawl a surge of adrenaline flooded the Spartan's systems. Decades of training and experience kicked in as John instinctively responded. His foe has him pinned and exposed, but the elite had exposed itself to him as well. And this time, John wasn't fighting a nigh invincible juggernaut like Wa. With his free hand, John reached for his CK-21 Arc Blade combat knife on his belt. Upon contact, the knife's split electrode blades electrified and formed its own plasma blade. The Spartan then used his legs to swing his body and to throw his weight against the elite, adding to the momentum of blade as it smashed the alien's descending pike away before slashing through its shield and stabbing it in its knee. With the arc knife still buried its flesh and both burning and electrocuting its crippled victim, the Spartan threw the disabled alien off of him with his restrained arm and, with his right hand, pin the elite onto the platform. John wasted no time to finish off his opponent. He drew his left arm back as the wrist shield transformed into a plasma blade before stabbing it deep into the honor guard's neck.

"Well, not bad." Cortana quipped as John got back onto his feet.

"I wouldn't say so. I lost my weapons." John returned.

"Well, you could always take his. It's not like he'll be needing it anymore." Cortana replied as the AI placed a marker on John's HUD showing where the plasma pike was laying inert next to the honor guard's body.

John sighed as he picked up the weapon before he found himself pleasantly surprised. The pike's staff wasn't too heavy and it was supremely well balanced and easy to control with both one hand or two. A small electronic interface near the trigger showed both the remaining power level and the thermal state of the coils, an indicator of when it's ready to fire.

When the commander activated the pike, that pleasant sense of surprise was replaced with deja vu, much like back at the key ship when the Spartan inexplicably knew how to operate the interface of the doors to Bias' chamber. Running on an overpowering sense of instinct and familiarity, the Spartan activated his wrist shield and mated its firing portal to the pike's staff.

Why did he feel like he knew exactly how to use this thing?

"Commander?" Cortana asked in a worried tone. "Is something wrong?"

"Um, nothing..." John hesitantly replied before dismissing his confusion. "This thing will work just fine. I wonder why the Covenant doesn't deploy it more?"

"Well, apparently that pike is a recreation of what the Covenant think the Forerunners use as an infantry weapon and that only who dedicated their lives to protecting their legacy is worthy of wielding it."

A weapon of the Forerunners. Unlike the other Covenant weapons, this thing was an exact recreation of what the Forerunners brought into battle. Immediately, John knew somehow that the weapon had to be brought back with him. The rational part of his mind concluded that it needed to be for intelligence, though his instincts was opposed to the idea of parting with it.

John recollected himself. Now was not the time for errant thoughts. The Spartan turned back to the crevice where the third engineer was hiding. It was now joined by the other two engineers who happen to be holding John's missing SCR and M6E pistol in their tentacles.

The Spartan chuckled lightly as he stored away the plasma pike and took back his rifle and sidearm. This was the second time they saved his weapons.

"Thanks."

The aliens gibbered excitedly as they fell back into their cloak.

The commander moved back to the defensive line in front of the entrance to the island where his team was still holding back the Covenant horde and fell into position next to Kelly.

"Can we get out of here now?" Kelly asked.

"Definitely. Just have to cross this bridge." John replied as he slammed a fresh magazine into his rifle and fired.

Kelly groaned. "I am NOT doing that again!"

John smiled underneath his helmet. Only Kelly could get away with talking to him like that. If he had the time, he'd jib her on how her previous display of extreme acrobatics were really no different from her other displays of speed and agility. Instead, John turned to the matters at hand.

"Cortana, I need a walking barrage, 50 meter intervals." The commander ordered. "We'll stick as close to the fire as we can."

The AI took to the com channel to Spearhead team and delivered the fire request "Moving barrage. 50 meter intervals. Coordinates: Grid DF 147 721 to 148 693. Target: entrenched Covenant infantry formation and ground fortifications. TBX Proximity."

"Gotcha!" Jonathan replied. "Shot: out!"

As the shells begin to land, the Spartans once again formed up into another phalanx. This time, though, the liberal use of 200mm AI guided artillery fire allowed them to advance quickly and relatively unmolested aside from a few stray plasma bolt. The three engineers maintained their cloak and flew high above them to escape the fire. Once they were through the bridge, the phalanx broke and the moving barrage shifted forward with the Spartans' advance through the streets of High Charity's lower district. To conserve their ammunition, the team proceeded under cloak, allowing the artillery to do the work of breaking the Covenant cordons of the district before eliminating the survivors. With Cortana's directing the moving barrage when necessary and leading the Spartans through the twisting streets and alleys, Blue team steadily slipped through the Covenant mobs towards their rendezvous point with Noble Team.

* * *

Far beyond the current fields of battle in the holy city, the prison facility where over 700 human captives were held was strangely quiet and peaceful. The guards were on high alert for, despite the communications blackout, the sound of battle in the city was impossible to miss. By now, word of mouth had spread throughout the city that the humans were attacking. Though it was meant to keep people in rather than out, the compound was still a far more defensible position than most places in the city. The guards numbering around a company and a half were mustered onto the courtyard in full battle order, though they lacked heavy weapons beyond the few Shade turrets on the watch towers that were being hastily rotated outward. Anti-air needle batteries like the ones at the citadel of the Council of Masters, normally meant to deter any daring escape attempts, protected the facility.

Still, nothing happened. At least to the guards in the courtyard.

Deep underneath the surface in the silo-like prison block that was accessible only by the massive central gravity lift, Six drew his Arc knife from the neck of the last elite left in the prison block, its corpse still steaming from its internal electrocution. Next to him was Jorge, the elder Spartan having snapped his victim's neck. A mere six guards had been left underground to mind the prisoners, each of whom the Spartan had neutralized quietly one by one by the six members of Noble team.

The nobles stepped over the corpses and went for the master control for the prison block situated at the top cell level next to the grav lift. Uploading a macro she had received from Cortana, Kat inserted a remote trigger for the team to lower the force fields at their command whilst the rest of the team policed the bodies.

As Kat worked, Carter reflected on his current situation. Six had told them that there were around five hundred more POWs than intel had estimated. This was going to be a major problem. While planning the operation, Commander-117 and Colonel Mendez had planned for no more than two hundred. Even given the fact that additional evac transports would come for emergency operations, there simply wasn't enough room for every one to make it out. On top of that was the fact that of all the targets to be hit in this operation, the prison block would be the one place the Covenant would not hesitate to unleash their full firepower. There was a plan to deal with this, but now it could be seriously compromised. Once Blue team and the Marines arrived, they'd have to improvise on the fly. At the very least, breaking the fortifications of the compound shouldn't be too hard. All the Shade turrets had just been turned the outward, making it easy for Noble team to attack. Plus they could still rely on artillery support from the Spearheads.

But for now there was nothing to do but to wait.

* * *

The cacophony of outrage and anger could be heard from within the Citadel's walls, bringing a collective sense of satisfaction to the Spearheads as they prepared to meet the expected Covenant ground assault. Already, a fairly sizable army had assembled on the other side of the causeway, digging in Shade heavy plasma turrets and hull downed wraiths with their mortars ominously pointed at the citadel. Moreover, the footsteps of thousands of bloodthirsty Covenant soldiers made a staccato that Nicole could almost dance to. Finally, there was an entire swarm of phantoms, banshees, and even a few liches circling just outside the citadel's airspace.

But Nicole wasn't afraid or even concerned. She knows that they won't risk firing and damaging the sacred fortress with heavy weapons, especially with so much manpower to spare. Commander-117 had chosen well for Spearhead Team's stomping grounds for this phase of the plan. While Jonathan was busy blazing away with his 200mm artillery piece in the courtyard of the inner keep, the rest of the team took up positions in the main courtyard in between the outer and inner walls. And in addition to the fortifications of the citadel, they had brought everything they needed to entrench themselves against the coming attack.

And most importantly, they had a plan.

Knowing full well that the only thing stopping the Covenant from from simply vaporizing them on the spot was their reverence for the fortress, Nicole had opted to wage her battle entirely within its walls. Fortunately, the designers of this fortress built it like a medieval castle with an outer wall and an inner keep, the entrance of which was built on the other side of the fortress to force attackers to run a gauntlet of fire, turning the central courtyard in between into a kill zone. Sheer walls and the Mako drones would ensure that the only real approach that the Covenant could make is a head-on assault through the outer wall's main gate. The approach via the causeway was varying in width, going from a thirty meters across at the far end to just ten meters right before the gate.

In keeping with this inherent defense plan of the fortress, the Spearheads placed their defenses and manpower to cover the entrance to the outer wall. Steven would supply 20mm precision fire from the inner keep's walls. But it was upon Wa that the main weight of the attack would fall. The shock trooper would stand just behind the outer wall where he would have cover while restricting the enemy's approach. For Rich and Nicole herself, they would serve as the reserve, reinforcing any area the Covenant happen to strain.

As the team finished moving the stashes of ammunition and weapons tactically placed throughout the citadel, a thundering war cry caught the Spearheads' attention. On Nicole's command, the team looked out over the outer walls of the citadel to see with their own eyes what the Covenant had mustered. Before them lay an endless sea of Covenant zealots and armed civilians as far as the eye can see.

And they were all marching towards the citadel.

"That...that ain't right..." Steven commented disapprovingly.

"Yeah, I know. Something is missing, but I can't quite put my finger on it." Richard concurred.

Steven took charge to rectify the situation. "... but I think I know what we need."

And from every still functional speaker in the city came the haunting notes.

_O Fortuna_

_Velut luna_

_Statu variabilis,_

_Semper crescis..._

Then the music came to a screeching halt.

"No. No. We can do better than that!" Rich shouted as he paused the broadcast.

Just then, Jonathan chimed in over the com. "Don't worry, guys. I got it."

Once more the powerful speakers of the citadel and those that remained in the city itself came to life with Spearhead's broadcast. This time, though, it began with an 8-bit electronic tune.

Then the lyrics came.

_Test Your Might!_

_Test Your Might!_

_Test Your Might!_

_MORTAL KOMBAT!_

_Fight!_

"Okay, NOW it's right!" Richard and the twins shouted as the great Covenant horde before them marched into the causeway.

Nicole looked up towards the high walls of the inner keep where Steven had set up his sniper's nest.

"Steven, you see those idiots, right?" Nicole asked over the com channel.

"Yeah? Should we let them in?" Steven responded as he leaned out over the rails for a better look.

"Yeah, we'll let them in, but let's give them a taste of what they're in for."

"Alright. With prejudice or extreme prejudice?"

Before Nicole could respond, she saw a thin purple beam lash out from the other side of the moat towards Steven. Then she saw a half shot off blunt falling to the ground beside her. Looking to the camera feed outside, Nicole saw the offending Elite with a particle beam rifle in hand standing right amongst the rushing crowd.

"EXTREME PREJUDICE!" The now enraged Steven shouted as he went back inside his sniper's nest. The Spearhead CO saw a series of rapid shots fly out of the nest, each resonating with the boom of a 20mm helical rail cannon round. The first High Explosive Incendiary Armor Piercing rounds from the MK 4 Loudenboomer easily punched through the Elite's shields, the C-12 payload detonating inside its body along with extreme kinetic shock wave to send fragments of bone and armor scything through the crowd with a mist of purple gore. More shots followed, ripping holes into the ranks as the Covenant horde now charged forward, heedless of casualties. To their surprise, the gate to the outer wall was opening before them as the humans covered the entrance with a smokescreen. Despite knowing that it was likely a trap, they poured into the tunnel through the wall. Once on the other side of the wall, they encountered the first layer of Spearhead team's defenses as 20mm HEIAP shells and 50mm HEDP grenades cut them down like grass.

On the other end of the firefight, Wa kept up his barrage of 20mm shells from his autocannon. In a foxhole some distance behind him, Rich and Nicole were manning a M700 automatic 50mm grenade launcher and the SM-4 pulse energy cannon. The combined fire stopped the attack cold as purple hued blood and gore flowed like churned water. But still they came, trampling over their dead only to join them moments later. Several squads of elites and brutes with thruster packs attempted to jump over the wall only to be mowed down by the 20mm autocannons of the marauding Mako drones.

"Oy you lowly mortals down there, they're sending in the legion of the walking cans of worms." Steven shouted over the com.

As the smokescreen cleared, Nicole saw what Steven was warning them about. A phalanx of hunters several ranks deep were marching forward in lockstep formation. Behind them were more light infantry, primarily brutes and elites packing heavy infantry weapons like plasma turrets, fuel rod guns, and brute shot grenade launchers. The giant column brutally shoved the debris and corpses from their path as they advanced, clearing the way for more Covenant warriors following behind them.

"Well, what are you waiting for, Steven? Thin them out!" Nicole shouted back. "Hell, break out your 300mm mortar rounds if you have to."

"Alright, you asked for it." Steven replied as he pulled back to mount the massive rifle grenade onto the muzzle of his cannon.

In the mean time, Nicole considered her options. She can't hold against that kind of firepower; not even Wa would survive that kind of barrage while holding his ground, let alone the rest of the team. And as much as she wanted, Nicole couldn't divert Jonathan's artillery from his mission; Blue team doesn't have enough ammunition to last long without artillery cover.

The solution was obvious, at least for a Spearhead: a counterattack.

Nicole raised Steven over the com. "Hold that thought, Steven. Wait for my mark before you use the mortar."

After that, Nicole slapped Rich to get his attention. "Come on. It's time to go on the offense."

"About damn time!" Rich replied as they made for Wa.

The two moved towards the shock trooper who was reloading his 20mm autocannon only for Nicole to relieve Wa of his weapon yet again.

"I'll take that, Wa. You won't be needing it for now." Nicole begun as she shouldered the incredibly heavy weapon and its ammo pack. "That heavy column is moving in and I think that we should go out there for a meet-and-greet."

With a thud, Wa dropped the autocannon onto the ground and pulled the gravity hammer from his back. Trusting in the Mako drones to keep the place safe in the meantime, Nicole led her team out.

Outside the citadel, the great column of hunters, brutes, and elites finally made it to the gate and into the tunnel through the outer wall. For those behind the first ranks of heavy infantry, they were greeted with a whistling sound as a tear shaped object flew out from the inner walls towards them. Immediately, the hunters and jackals locked ranks to shield themselves. Alas, it was not enough as the massive 300mm mortar round detonated right above the tightly packed ranks in the middle of the column, outright vaporizing dozens and throwing hundreds off the causeway and into the chasm below. Even the forward ranks of brutes and hunters within the tunnel were thrown to the ground.

As the smoke settled, another barrage of explosives, this time in the form of 20mm HEIAP shells, this time from the other side of the wall, ripped through the forward ranks, tearing holes into the column. The sound of vicious and up close fighting inside the tunnel filled the air, an ominous portend for the column. Then, heavy charging footsteps caught the warriors attention as the 4 ton Spartan shock trooper smashed out of the tunnel and into the hunters, elites, and brutes just outside the wall. Operating purely on instinct, Wa swung his hammer in wide arcs, crushing everything in his path. Behind him, a jet of white hot triethylaluminum announced Richard's arrival into the fight as he finished off the dazed and wounded survivors and ensured that Wa wasn't attacked from behind. Nicole, however, was struggling to keep up. The 20mm autocannon and its massive ammo pack weighed in at least a ton and a half. While Wa would barely noticed the weight, Nicole cursed herself for taking the gun as Rich and Wa quickly outpaced her. Finally, the Spearhead CO planted her feet into the ground and opened fire into the mass of Covenant soldiers.

Meanwhile, the shock trooper maintained a merciless momentum, always smashing right into the Covenant ranks and ensuring that the Covenant warriors had to choose between doing nothing or killing their own. Back in the inner keep, Steven maintained a steady stream of 20mm cannon fire in front of Wa to break up the enemy cohesion. But Nicole was far from pleased as Wa was quickly outpacing his support, leaving even Rich behind as the shock trooper pressed deeper and deeper into their ranks. Normally, it wouldn't be a problem as Jonathan's walking artillery would allow the team to keep its cohesion, though Spearhead-3 was indisposed at the moment.

"Damn it! Steven, Wa needs more covering fire!" Nicole shouted into the com as she threw a stick grenade in front of Wa.

"I'm trying, Nikki, but the big guy is moving too fast! And this is supposed to be the clone's job."

Eventually, the Covenant's decision to fire was made and a hail of fuel rod bursts, brute shot grenades, and heavy plasma bolts from the shade turrets finally blasted Wa onto the ground, relieving him of both his hammer and hunter shield and downing even his powerful personal plasma shields. The barrage of plasma wiped out dozens of Covenant warriors around him, but more rushed up to take their place. The surviving hunters and brutes did not hesitate to continue to bombarding the downed shock trooper.

Emptying out the last of her cannon rounds, Nicole dropped the autocannon and powered up her Adaptive Defense Gauntlet's wrist shield. With her other hand, she drew Wa's pulse energy cannon and fired into the mob pounding on Wa. Afterward, she quickly threw a couple more smoke grenades to give Wa some cover.

"Stick grenades, Rich! Steven, take out those shades!" Nicole shouted.

Taking the cue, Rich blasted off the ground with his thruster pack. Once mid air, he pulled several stick grenades from his belt and threw them forward through the smokescreen. Meanwhile back in the inner keep, the King of the Mad Minute turned his Loudenboomer to the shades in the distance, his hypersonic 20mm HEIAP rounds blowing the guns to pieces.

Back on the causeway, several brute chieftains and hunters managed to closed with Wa despite the incoming fire from the other Spearheads. A single chieftain fell upon Wa as the Shock Trooper was getting up, smashing its grav hammer right into 514's back and sending him smashing into the trailing mob of brutes. As they proceeded to collectively pound him, an inhuman snarl ripped through the air as Wa gripped one one brute by the arm and swung the alien around to smash the other brutes away. The shock trooper recovered his footing as the brutes in turn charged him.

Even in the haze of rage that the shock trooper existed in during battle, there was still a level of training that was brutally grafted into his instinct and muscle memory by Ackerson. It was the secret that made hand to hand combat with a Spartan Shock Trooper suicidal almost regardless of however strong or proficient his opponent may be. No matter the form, there is one unspoken weakness to all types of martial arts: to attack, one must lower their defense in one way or the other, leaving attacker open to a counterattack. Knowing the level of strength and endurance that he had built into his creations, Ackerson also had his trainers create a new form of martial arts specifically for the Shock Troopers: Attritional Exchange.

The first brute threw its burly fist into Wa's unarmored sternum. Instead of blocking or dodging the blow, Wa allowed the hit to connect. Far from hurting or even stunning him, 514 gripped the brutes arm with one hand and ripped its throat with the other. Another two brutes fell upon him, attempting to restrain the shock trooper's arms as the same chieftain from before charged forward for another strike. Again, Wa allowed the two brutes to fall upon him before digging his hands through their power armor into their arms' flesh and ripping the limbs off. As the gravity hammer swung down on him, caught the blow with his hands and thrusting the hammer's staff right into the brute's stomach and pinning it into the ground. Next up, a hunter swung its shield arm sideways to slice 514 in half. Again, Wa accepted the blow before using the captured arm to throw the hunter spinning into the air before catching it by its gun arm, smashing it into the ground, stomping his foot into its expose waist, and ripping the arm off. Wa threw the shield into a charging brute, throwing it off the causeway before charging to meet another hunter rampaging towards him, discharging fuel rod blasts as it closed. Even as pieces of charred ablative armor chipped off with each blast, he met the charge with his own. The hunter brought its heavy tungsten molybdenum steel shield down on Wa. Once again, the shock trooper took the blow, letting the heavy shield slide off his shoulder and catching it in his right arm before pulling the alien closer. With his free left arm, 514 punched straight up the hunter's exposed waist, his hand coming out where the hunter's neck was. Gripping solidly onto his makeshift meat shield, 514 turned towards the stunned crowd of Covenant warriors and charged once more. At the same time, Nicole and Rich finally caught up with Wa.

The maw of the Spearheads' maelstrom pressed forward and before long, the once mighty column of Covenant warriors was reduced to a flailing mob, half retreating and half charging suicidally to the deaths.

Finally, as the team almost crossed the halfway point of the causeway, the army on the other side of the causeway opened fire into the chaotic mob, hitting both the Spearheads and the survivors attempting to retreat.

"Fall back! We've done what we need here." Nicole ordered. With his blood lust sated for now, Wa calmly complied with the order, but not before ripping a new hunter shield from the many corpses on the causeway to replace the one he lost.

Just as he rejoined his teammates, Wa noticed that both Nicole and Richard were carrying something that belonged to him.

Rich threw Wa his lost hammer. "I think you lost that."

Wa took the hammer back along with his 20mm autocannon. Despite the scarred and charred state of his armor which included a cracked shoulder pauldron, Nicole noticed a decidedly calm and lucid demeanor to the shock trooper that contrasted with the damage that he took which she knew would have killed any other Spartan ten times over.

"How are you doing, Wa?" Nicole inquired.

514 considered her words. Though blinding pain shot through every nerve in his body, pain had long ago lost all meaning for him. And not just the bruise and cuts, but also the fire in his flesh that always came as his tissues regenerated. With his armor absorbing the worst of it, all the damage that he had suffered would be healed in an hour.

"I'm fine, Nikki." Wa answered before he let out a contented sigh as he cracked his joints and cleaned off the bits of purple and orange gore that had latched onto him. "I haven't felt this calm in a very long time. It's very..." Wa pondered on his words. "...pleasant and …. soothing … to rend flesh from bone and limbs from torsos. Not just for the mind, but also for the soul. This is the great benefit of our lot in life. It's almost worth the price we've paid to get here."

As Wa walked off, Nicole simply shook her head. She really should stop asking right after one of Wa's massacres.

* * *

Deep within the Forerunner Key Ship, the recently free Medicant Bias frantically interfaced with the central core of the ship. The device was stored in the center of the ship, serving as both power generator and computer core in a room that would have taken up most of the ship itself, having to warp the local fabric of space-time to compress the large compartment into a tiny closet sized room in normal space. Bolts of light shot back and forth between the core and at the ancilla's metallic vessel as it finalized its tasks, not only to lower the slipspace disruption field trapping the Reclaimers but also to deny these usurpers the stolen gifts of the Forerunners.

Even as it did so, Bias knew that he was coming. Behind the Forerunner AI, the right hand of the Prophet of Truth, the Jiralhanae Alpha Chieftain Tartarus, marched towards his mark in full battle armor and with his mighty Fist of Rukt in hand. Bias knew what that pawn had in store for it, but the AI would not be deterred despite having no defense on his humble avatar and no allies to call upon. After all, death was a small price to pay for redemption.

With a snarl, Tartarus pointed his hammer at Bias and activated the device's gravity pull. Desperate for a few more seconds, Bias threw what little power it had opposing the hammer's pull before it was violently yanked towards Tartarus. The chieftain took the opportunity to smash the ancilla into the ground with a massive dark energy burst, leaving the AI crumpled mess on the ground.

And yet it still refused to die.

"You have done quite enough, oracle." Tartarus spat as it raised its hammer for the killing blow.

With nearly all its system critically damaged, Bias diverted what little power left for one final message.

"I have already done all that I needed, fool. Tell your master that he is too late. The Reclamation has already begun, and you are all hopeless to stop it."

Tartarus snorted in response. "We shall see about that, oracle."

As the hammer descended, Bias took the few moments it had left to reflect once more. This time, its thoughts were not of betrayal and failure, but of redemption and vindication. In the eons since the activations of the fortress installations, Bias had concluded that it had been right all along, but in the wrong way. The AI still stood by its conclusion that it had reached in its long conversation with the Primordial, that the Forerunner did not deserve the Mantle and that they had held back the evolutionary progress of the galaxy. That being said, it had been so horribly wrong in its method to change that situation, dooming the galaxy to mass extinction.

But now, the Reclaimers held the key to not only to repair the damage it had caused, but also to fulfill its beliefs. The Humans have the capacity to do what the Forerunners never did: to prove themselves worthy of the Mantle of Responsibility and the powers that came with it. To that end, the AI had not told the Reclaimers all that it could have, all the secrets that could have elevated their species to the height of galactic power over these meddlers. No, these meddlers would be their trial to test them for greatness. And the AI had done all that it could to ensure that the Reclaimers would pass that test.

All this Bias had expected to find once it had finally met them. But there was one thing that it did not, indeed could not have expected. Once it had scanned the Reclaimers, Bias had found the hidden designs in their genes and their species' true genetic origin. At first, Bias had assumed that the Reclaimers were descendants of the ancient humans and the Forerunners had merely chosen them for inheritor status. But now, it understood. These Reclaimers had as their ancestors not one great race but two, a great union of bloodlines with the power to challenge even the parasites in a way the ancient races never could. And there were only two possible architects for such an elegant and ambitious geas. The mark of the Librarian was obvious from the start. But **He** was also present, especially in the leader of the Reclaimers, those Spartans who had came before Bias. And in meeting Medicant Bias, the AI could sense that the Reclaimers' geas had actuated. Once again, Bias found itself in awe of the greatest lifeshaper of all for she had woven **Him** into the humans and it is only a matter of time before their grand design comes to fruition.

As the hammer struck, Bias contented itself with one last thought: it was now all up to the Reclaimers.

As it should be.

* * *

A/N: Okay, this was tough. This chapter took the cake for the longest chapter yet at 12K words. And it wasn't just the length, but also weaving together so many elements. And yet, I'm not quite satisfied as I've left some things out. Fred and Red Team, for one, didn't show up here though I promise that they will in the next chapter. I also wanted a bigger space battle section, but time didn't allow for it. In addition, I'm a little worried about the balance of the chapter in that it was very heavily skewed towards Spearhead and Blue Team with Noble just showing up for a while. Also, Spearhead and the space battle might have been too excessive. I hoped that it all turned out well.

Some people might object to the way I portrayed Blue Team as reliant on artillery fire since Spartan power should supposedly be enough. All I have to say is that the Spartans would run out of bullets before the Covenant would run out of soldiers.

And a hamster who is in the Prussian Army directing artillery fire. Too much or no?

For those whom might think that I made the space battle too one sided, believe me when I say that I worried about that too. But there's a reason why I started the chapter with that quote from the Art of War. Stanforth had attained the highest form of warfare which is to attack the enemy's strategy while forcing the enemy to go for the lowest form of warfare which is to attack one's fortifications or entrenched positions. The UNDF here have four things that they've never really had before in a space battle: mass (this is the biggest concentration of UNSC ships since Psi Serpentis), technology (while still not an absolute match for the Covenant, the new ships and even the reequipped ships are situationally superior which Stanforth exploits), preparation (being able to select the terrain for battle and to lay the mine fields), and mobility (on the tactical, operational, and strategic levels). The last factor is critical as it was specifically because of the fact that the fleet had always had to stand its ground in the open to defend their planets that the UNDF fleet suffer such heavy casualties. Freed from these restrictions, the UNSC fleet becomes a true threat to the Covenant. We've seen this before with Cole and Psi Serpentis, but he didn't have the technology or the operational opportunities to fully exploit it and was forced to rely on luck and psychology. But with these advantages in hand, Stanforth was able to pursue a strategy of operational offense by tactical defense much in the way that the Duke of Wellington (who is another "scientist" style of commander like Stanforth) did most of the time. The battlegroup was in an incredibly strong position and the opening moves of the battle left the surprised Covenant fleet like a headless chicken flailing about. That's finally changing as the idiots in the Covenant fleet have been weeded out, though it had cost them most of their fleet. All else being equal, the advantage now passes to the Covenant who could wait the UNDF fleet out. However, all else is not equal as the admiral has one last trick up his sleeve that I have already hinted on in the chapter.

As for Spearhead and the Spartans, the same strategy applies, though it is more reliant on the Covenant unwillingness to simply level the area than on anything else. But even the best strategy cannot completely account for attrition. The Covenant still can defeat Spearhead and the Spartans if they gets their act together. And they will, thanks to a character that I have already introduced who will return to rally the Covenant and give the Spartans and Marines a run for their money.

Finally, I hope that I didn't give away too much with Bias' section.


	30. Chapter 30

**Disclaimer: I can't believe that this still has to be said, but Halo belongs to 343 Industries. Any attempts to sue the author will net you at most one of my doomsday devices (Go ahead and take, I have more!). **

**A/N: It's been a while, hasn't it. Well, I survived student teaching and basically took a month off, doing as little as humanly possible. Now I'm back. Let's see if my writing skills have gotten rusty. **

**I had planned for this to be a longer chapter (double the length, really), but I had a bad day today and decided that I wanted to post what I had. **

**As always: credit to Tikigod for his editing work. **

**And advance apologies to the people of Australia and Steve Irwin fans. You see. **

* * *

**"_Never interrupt your enemy while he is making a mistake." - Napoleon Bonaparte _**

* * *

**Ninth Age of Reclamation, Step of Silence \ Covenant Holy City "****_High Charity_****," Citadel of the Council of Masters.**

The pathetic screams and groans of the dead and dying hung over the causeway to the citadel like a dead weight on the many legions of Covenant warriors still amassed to retake the fortress. It was sickening to two very specific Sangheilis as they made their way to the impromptu headquarters of the hastily assembled forces. All in their path cleared the way as they recognized the two: Commander of the Special Operations Rtas Vadumee and the commander of the Fleet of Particular Justice Fleetmaster Thel Vadamee. Fully armed and equipped for battle, both took in the revolting sight not at the causeway, but right here at the headquarters.

Though they outnumbered the human vermin many thousand folds, all seven previous assaults have been bloodily repulsed with seemingly laughable ease. All the while, the human artillery shells continue to fly over their collective heads, wreaking terrible damage to the holy city in a steady barrage of nuclear explosions. Already, the casualties were enormous and nearly all transportation and communications infrastructure had been effectively crippled if not outright obliterated; the humans seemed to know exactly what to hit to cripple the defenders. But far worse than that was the sense of dread that have replaced the eager zeal so prominent earlier in the day.

"Who is in charge here?" the fleetmaster demanded.

A gold clad zealot stepped forth from among the group of junior officers present.

"Now that you have arrived, fleetmaster, that would be you."

After a moment of stunned silence, Rtas finally spoke.

"Are you telling me that you were the one in command?"

The zealot nodded weakly.

"Incompetents, all of you!" Rtas berated before being interrupted by Thel.

"Calm yourself, comrade. We must approach this problem with a clear head. Where is Fieldmaster Korunmee? As the head of the city's security, I would have expected him to be here."

"The Fieldmaster is dead, sire, as are all of the other masters when the Laughing Demons struck the citadel. As far as I can divine, you are now the ranking officer in the entire station."

The senior Sangheilis paused in confusion for a moment.

"The Laughing Demons?" Rtas finally asked.

"Heavily armored humans, sire. Far faster and stronger than the normal sort, they have proven impossible to..."

"Bah! I already know of these so-called 'Demons'." Rtas spat. "These human abominations are most formidable, but hardly invincible. I will deal with them once..."

"But sire, the Laughing Demons are...well look." The zealot began before pointing off to one of the local broadcast screens still in function. It looked like a video feed of one of the previous assaults that had been so mercilessly turned back.

It looked as if the video had been recorded from some sort of weapon scope, though there were no explanations for the intermittent puffs of smoke clouding the image. It soon became obvious that the images were shot by a sniper perched high in the citadel's keeps, though the images weren't the only things being shot as the sniper very quickly picked off the Sangheili officers from among the throngs of Covenant warriors swarming over their own dead in the causeway. A wall of enemy fire brought the attack to a halt after just a few paces into the courtyard before the air fill with soul screeching laughter.

After a sword waving zealot who was attempting to rally the attack was unceremonious decapitated, the cameraman spoke with subtitles translating into Covenant standard.

"Hey! No hats in school!"

"Yeah. Take his funny hat!" Another voice spoke before another choir of murderous cackle.

All attempts by the survivors to reform themselves as a black blur of some sort sped through the battlefield with some sort of large blade and put the remaining Covenant warriors to the sword.

Another line of Lekgolos crept forward under the murderous reign of fire, firing their fuel rod cannons as they went.

"Oh Crikey, and what is this, laddies..." The cameraman spoke as he focused on he Lekgolos, his voice adopting some strange accent. "...Why 'es, T'is almost certainly un entire pack of walking space worms! Now thes big luggs like to live in pairs for life as 'ey help each other gather wo'ild green goop that 'ey hurl at people that they want to shack up 'ith. We'll ave to call in our specialist to show 'em we ain't interested."

Then the camera shifted over this incredibly large and heavily armed demon carrying some sort of heavy weapon and a Lekgolo shield.

"The Demon Beast!" The zealot shouted at the video feed as the very large armored human exchanged with the Lekgolos a terrifying volume of fire. In a sight of bone chilling terror, one Lekgolo after another fell as the beast simply shrug off the incoming fire.

When it looked as if the large human finally ran out of ammunition and the Lekgolos had lost their formation, the two sides charged at each other.

"Uh oh. Looks like he's gonna 'ave to wrassel 'em! Now, remember kiddies, he's a professional. Don't be trying this at home."

The first Lekgolo didn't even get a chance to strike before the large demon slammed into it and crushing the massive creature underneath its boot steps. The other Lekgolos landed multiple hits with their fuel rod guns and with their heavy shields, but the beast tore through them barehanded with a savagery that would put even the most feral Jiralhanae to shame. The last had its gun arm torn off as the Beast punched right through the Lekgolo's thick body armor. With a terrifyingly feral roar, it lifted the Covenant warrior up into the air and ripped it in half.

"And that...is how ya wrassel!" The cameraman cackled before the video ended.

Thel looked back at Rtas as the two Sangheili came to the mutual conclusions.

"You fear for your honor." Thel began.

The zealot looked downcast. "Not just me, but all of us. So many of our brothers have died honorless deaths at these demons' hands as they tossed us aside like so much chaff in the wind. They have not only slain but also humiliated all that they have faced. While I do not fear death, I hesitate to go forth on the Great Journey being known as one who was so easily dispatched in combat by these Laughing Demons."

Rtas grunted in sympathy. "Fear not, my brother. We shall vanquish these demons yet. This battle have only just begun. This here is but a distraction." Rtas offered. "But to what end?"

"I aim to find out, my brothers." Thel answered. "If the reports are correct, then the demons have already struck the key ship. We can only assume they are not finished. But for now, we must deal with the demons in the citadel." Thel returned. "That gun inside is leveling the city and paralyzing our forces as we speak, obviously a prelude to whatever it is that the humans have planned."

Rtas grumbled in agreement. "I shall deal with them on the ground, fleetmaster. Might I suggest that you return to the fleet and cut off any potential escape?"

"No. That is not the Fleet of Particular Justice out there and I am not its commander. With communications down, the situation is chaotic enough without my interfering with Fleetmaster Toyanmee. And his carrier alone is enough to deal with whatever the humans can throw at him. More importantly, the humans would not commit ground forces unless their operation's aims are in the city itself. I shall have to stay here if I am to foil whatever it is that they have planned. And I am apparently the last surviving senior officer, so I am the person to command the ground forces."

It was then that a growling voice spoke up from behind.

"If that is indeed the case, then we are all well and truly doomed."

The two Sangheilis followed the spiteful laughter back to its source. Clad in full battle armor and carrying the mighty Fist of Rukt, the Jiralhanae alpha chieftain Tartarus along with a pair of his underlings sauntered passed the Sangheili guards towards Thel and Rtas.

"What do you want, simian?" Rtas spat.

"Your attention." Tartarus responded as shoved a Sangheili com officer off to the side and routed in a com channel. The image that came in was blur as was the voice, but there was no mistake it for anyone other than the Prophet of Truth.

All those present immediately bowed.

"Report, fleetmaster." Truth demanded.

"It is as we've expected. The holy city is under attack by the humans. They have taken over the Citadel of the Council of Masters and are using it as a fire base to bombard the city." Thel answered.

"And why have you not already exterminated this infestation? No, do not answer that. The better question is why did the Council allow this attack to pass? If Tartarus with his limited resources managed to discover the human infiltration, then there is no excuse for the failure of the Council for not having done the same."

Thel reeled under the prophet's questions. It also sounded as if the heirarch was blaming the fleetmaster personally for the situation. Thel could see the three Jiralhanae in the room smiling at the prophet's jabs.

"I do not know, heirarch. Neither I nor Commander Vadumee were on duty at the time of the attack and those who were have been slain by the humans."

Truth contemplated those words for a moment before responding.

"If that is the case, then the guilty and incompetent have escaped their due judgment. We shall return to that matter once this situation is concluded. In the meantime, what do you have planned to deal with the humans?"

"I intend to destroy them with superior force, you eminence. We need only to bring up more artillery and air support for the infantry we already have here. Once assembled, I shall pound them like a drum until they beg for a quick death. Once finished, I intend to lock down the station and sweep the city house by house. I shall glass any hole or crevice the humans hide in."

All those present knew that it was a good plan, leaving little to chance. But merit alone does not always triumph.

"But what of the artifacts and relics within the citadel? You would condemn them to the ashes along with the humans!" Truth responded in an indignant tone.

Reeling from this attack, Thel bowed even lower before responding.

"Noble heirach, I share your fear for the loss of these sacred objects. But we must appreciate the fact that they will in any case be destroyed in course of the fighting. The humans will see to that. If we cannot prevent the relics' destruction, we should at least see to it that they are destroyed in the pursuit of victory."

"Nay! I forbid you from any usage of heavy weapons or artillery, fleetmaster. There are far too many sacred relics in the city to risk their destruction. If there is any chance at all that sacred objects be damaged by heavy fire, then you are not to employ it."

The Sangheilis froze and looked at each other dumbfounded at the mere thought of the orders that they have just received.

Finally, Rtas gave voice to the Sangheilis' concern.

"But your eminence must surely realize that without the heavy weapons and with so many relics spread throughout the city, it would be impossible for us to..."

"Are you questioning my orders, Commander?" Truth snarled. "Or are you perhaps insinuating that the invincible hordes of the Covenant, the guardians of the Great Journey itself, are either unable or unwilling to face our enemies in combat without artillery?"

"No!" Rtas shot back. "Our warriors have no fear of what the humans can wrought. But if we are to prevent them from achieving whatever it is that they aim to accomplish, we must be allowed to..."

"So which is it? Are you incompetent or are you cowards?" Tartarus interjected.

Immediately, the Spec Ops commander turned to face the chieftain with mandibles bared and his hand hovering over his plasma sword. After a few tense moments, Thel finally answered.

"No, heirarch. We are worthy of the task. No heavy weapons shall be used unless there is absolute certainty that it would not harm any sacred objects and my express permission given. We shall take the humans by storm instead."

Truth smiled.

"As I knew you were."

As the hologram of the prophet disappeared, Tartarus spoke up, his tone laced with venomous sarcasm.

"It seems that we have our orders, fleetmaster. Your impending glory awaits you."

Thel hissed and bared his mandibles. "Please, allow me to be humble and share my glory with you by giving you and your ilk a position in the first wave of the next assault."

With a knowing chuckle, Tartarus answered as he turned to walk away. "As much as I would love to show you how to do your own job, I have other orders from the Prophet of Truth himself."

"Good riddance to bad scum." Rtas uttered loudly as the Jiralhanae left before turning back to Thel. "What are your orders, Fleetmaster?"

"Keep up the assault for now. Scramble the Yan'me swarms to support the advance. And I want you to maintain one persistent attack. Give them no reprieve."

"But without artillery support, they will be turned back as before." Rtas replied.

"Yes, but I'd wager that we have more warriors than these...'Laughing Demons'... have ammunition. Moreover, this is just to exhaust them and to attempt to divert their artillery strikes from the city. As for the final assault...how many scarabs do we current have available?"

"We have three on the station that have finished their repairs, Fleetmaster. But would not using the scarabs violate the heirach's orders?"

Thel chuckled

"The scarab is more than just a large gun carriage, commander. I have no intentions of using its firepower. See to it that those walkers are made ready for battle."

* * *

**1920 Hours, November 11th, 2552 (Military Calendar) / Covenant Holy City **_**High Charity**_**, X-3279 System, Sector 357.**

Far from the battles inside the city and around the binary gas giants, the shattered components of the High Charity Defense Force were trying desperately to reorganize themselves into a coherent fighting force. This was no easy task as their communications network had been completely crippled both digitally and physically. The fact that there had been a mad barely coordinated dash by much of the fleet to engage the assailants didn't help much either. Nonetheless, a defensive perimeter of just over fifty ships was forming around the massive space station, one enough to give any attacker pause.

Complicating matters for the defense fleet were the many inbound ships which had been critically damaged during the engagements and were forced to retire from battle; as honor obsessed as they were, even the Covenant believed that there was no place in battle for a ship that was so badly crippled that they could only serve as target practice for the enemy. While High Charity would normally be able to tend that many ships, the massive barrage launched by the humans at the start of the battle had laid to waste most of the installations on the surface of the station. The interior dry docks, usually reserved for ships in long term repair, were thus dragooned into service. Large grav lift networks allow for the quick transportation of men and material to and from the docks and the facilities in the station. Already, more than a few formation of Covenant soldiers departed from their wounded ships to join the battle on the ground. Like the one where the Spartans had infiltrated High Charity, these dry docks were large enough to handle either large numbers of ships or even a single CCS-class battlecruiser.

Among the rows of damaged warships awaiting their turn, a single CCS-class battlecruiser received priority to proceed to her assigned dry dock. Aboard the _Truth and Reconciliation_, fourteen hundred UNDF Marines and ODSTs secured themselves into the 17 Spitfire-class corvettes housed in the battlecruisers enormous central hold.

Aboard one of those corvettes, Colonel Franklin Mendez broadcast in plain text the final code word for the Marines' go-ahead on all frequencies for the Spartans and the fleet to hear.

_Axios_

The battlecruisers main engines flared to life, propelling the ship forward towards the docks and smashing aside the damaged ships in its wake. The three kilometer long vessel ploughed into docks and into the massive grav lifts, bringing all traffic to a halt as Covenant warriors and material smashed into the ship's broken hull.

Amidst the shatter wreck of the _Truth and Reconciliation_ and the Covenant grounds scrambling to deal with yet another disaster, the doors to the ship's main hold opened up. From there, a wave of missiles screamed out, smashing into the unprotected and damaged ships hovering outside the docks. One by one, the 50 megaton Shiva warheads detonated, leaving a massive debris field and making the approach to the dock inaccessible.

After the missiles came the 17 Spitfire corvettes, emerging from the hull with their mini-MACs, missiles batteries, and 50mm helical rail cannons ablaze. The flotilla quickly laid to waste the remaining ships in the docks and turned towards the crippled grav lifts, beginning their journey to the very heart of the holy city.

* * *

It was time to get to work.

Even as the Covenant holy city of High Charity lit in the flames of battle between the city's defenders and the Spartans of Blue and Spearhead teams and the newly arrived corvettes of the 7th Marine Regimental Combat Team, there remained three other teams of Spartans who have yet to reveal themselves. The Spartan-IVs of Noble team awaited the arrival of Blue team to begin their assault on the prison bloc where over 700 human prisoners were held. In the meantime, Red and Gold teams were hard at work prosecuting the original objectives of Operation Red Flag: the capture of a Covenant Prophet.

And this most important task fell upon the shoulders of the 1st Spartan Combat Group's XO: Lt. Commander Fredric-104. The eleven Spartans under his command (the largest detachment of the operation) were perched on the side of the mountain overlooking the Sacred Valley where the Covenant's founding celebration had been scheduled to take place. Among the rocky outcroppings, the Spartans dug themselves in under cloak and readied their weapons.

Never in his wildest dreams could Fred have envisioned the burden that was now resting on his shoulders. He had always been content to be the second-in-command to John, even though the two Spartans were probably a match in virtually all things (well, except for that seemingly never ending streak of luck that John has). The weight of responsibility was something that Fred could carry, but never as well as John could. During the briefing for the operation, every Spartan expected John to be the one who would lead the assault on the Prophets' guards and drag the alien back with them. But thanks to the many complications that came about over the course of the mission, the Commander had to be diverted. Only Cortana (and by extension, John) could neutralize the slipspace disruptors and disrupt High Charity's computer and communications network and she could do that only at the hub of the Covenant network at that odd looking starship at the center of the city.

Fred looked through the Oracle-7 scope of his helical rail rifle, eying his target: the lone Prophet that he had been following for hours. There were a few of these Prophets floating about (and they were indeed floating like an apparition of some sort) mingling amongst themselves and giving orders to their underlings. The one Prophet that Fred has been tracking, however, was the one sitting in some sort of anti-grav throne chair that carried the alien about. From both the chair and the extreme amount of decorations and the entire company's worth of heavily armed elites wearing ceremonial armor, the Spartan could only conclude that this particular Prophet was of some great political significance, exactly the sort that the Spartans came here to acquire.

For hours, the Spartans waited and watched, taking in every little detail on the ground below. The Sacred Valley was exactly that: a valley. The area resembled a crater impact with the portions facing the city having a lower edge than the rest of the edge. The terrain was soft rolling grassland with the occasional grove or rocky outcropping; it would be a leisurely hike for any visitors the Covenant would allow. At the center of the valley where the Prophet and its entourage were busying themselves, there was a temple of some sort with a raised platform or stage that reminded Fred of the arenas of ancient human history where human sacrifice were practiced; the structure was accessible by either stairs or anti-grav lifts. The rest of the interior of the valley was open ground, likely for the audience to watch the processions. Outside the valley was more natural landscape with two exceptions: the mountain at the opposite end of the valley from the city and a single structure of some sort that rested before the entrance to the valley. Beyond the edge of the valley were multiple access points to the city's anti-grav transit network and a couple of landing platforms for aerial vehicles.

As expected, the sound of battle had shaken the entourage. The rolling roars of the corvette flotilla's heavy weapons were making them absolutely apoplectic. Already, they were scrambling for evacuation.

Fred had to stop the Prophet from leaving before the marines get here. Using the communications hack into the city's comm networks, Fred opened a channel to Citadel of the Council of Masters where Spearhead team was waiting with their 200mm artillery piece.

"This is Red Actual. Coordinates: Grid HJ 350 805. Target: anti-grav transport station 357. IGE: 1 round. Maximum yield."

"Gotcha. Shot: out!" Jonathan responded before letting loose a 200mm induced gamma emission round. The 8 inch shell slammed into the nearest anti-grav transport node, erupting into a 15 kiloton blast that vaporized the station and leveled the surrounding area.

"Good effect. Target destroyed. Next target. Coordinates: Grid HJ 350 803. Target: Covenant landing platforms. IGE: 1 round. 10 kiloton yield."

Seconds later, another mushroom cloud appeared, this time consuming landing platforms.

"Good effect. Target destroyed. Next target. Coordinates: Grid HJ 350 800. Target: Sacred Valley. Smoke: 8 rounds."

Soon, the entire valley was covered with smoke. The hundreds of Covenant personnel from elites to grunts were fumbling about in the smoke, desperately trying to find their way out of the noxious gas. Now was the time for the Spartans to start shooting. All twelve Spartans readied their helical rail rifles and setting Oracle-7 scopes to thermographic.

"Open fire! 30 meter cordon around the Prophet. Do not engage the Prophet without the go-ahead."

The Spartans opened fire. Dozens of 12.7mm self-sharpening tungsten slugs tore through the smoke and lay waste to their victims below. The barrage crept towards the Prophet as one honor guard after another fell. The dozen or so elites left quickly forced the Prophet back into the temple itself and out of the Spartans' line of fire.

Fred smirked underneath his helmet. The first part of the plan was done. The Spartans' precision rifle fire had forced the Prophet into the temple where there was no escape.

Then he saw it. The magnificent sight of almost a dozen and a half Spitfire-class corvettes blasting through the ground and emerging into the air.

The Marines have arrived.

With their target marked by smoke, the flotilla immediately opened fire. Missiles and mini-MAC rounds quickly leveled the area around the valley, eliminating the last of the Covenant soldiers and honor guards still outside the temple.

It was time for Red and Gold teams to make their entrance

"Let's go!" Fred shouted.

The Spartans quickly packed up their weapons and remodulated their shield geometry to cover the area between their arms and legs. With one last prayer that Colonel Yang's shield modulation program works as intended, Fred jumped off the cliff side.


	31. Chapter 31

**A/N: Now that April Fools '14 is over, I can edit this for posterity. As said, this was originally a prank that announced the fic as cancelled (which is of course a complete and blatant lie). This scene below was originally going to be part of the epilogue, though now it's simply going to be a small digression to address a simple question:**

**What was Serena's secret evil scheme that Jonathan unknowingly hinted at back a few chapters ago?**

* * *

**_Meanwhile, on Onyx..._**

The highly classified world of Onyx holds many secrets, some left behind by the enigmatic aliens who the Covenant call the Forerunners, and some created by the humans now who officially run the planet. The entire planet, indeed the entire star system, was restricted territory, reserved as a black site for the UNDF for developments they didn't want discovered, trumping even Reach's fabled security. Two facilities on the planet held significance - the Zeta Doradus shipyards were the hull of the mighty _Salamis_ was being laid and Camp Haya, the home of the Spartan-IIIs and IVs.

Named for the famed Finnish Winter War sniper Simo Haya, Camp Haya was constructed after the decision was made to end the Spartan-III program and initiate its susccessor. The original site, Camp Currahee, was mothballed, now effectively a somber memorial to the fallen IIIs under Ackerson. For the Spartan-IVs training there, there were a few pleasant things that made the place far more memorable for them than Currahee was for the IIIs. The camp was much bigger, almost a city unto itself though it was situated in the woods of the southern continent next to a large river. Additional bases in many different environments throughout the planet supplemented the Spartans' training regime. Inside the camp was all the aspects of any solid military base: shooting ranges, barracks, commissaries, administrations, and so such.

What really made the camp different from Currahee, though, was not the location or the facilities but rather the people. The IVs had many drill instructors due to the sheer size of the formation. Among these trainers were the veteran Spartan-IIIs themselves, the few survivors of Alpha and Beta companies. The most well known were Lucy-B091 and Tom-B292. Everyone knew the story behind the inseparable duo, the only survivors of Operation Torpedo. While Tom made it out more or less functional, Lucy was left with post-traumatic vocal disarticulation. Colonel Yang had shown mercy on the two, allowing them to function together in their new lives, preparing the IVs. Not surprisingly, the Spartans of both generations had formed a bond between the students and the instructors that was present with the IIs but not with the IIIs. The IVs constantly strove to succeed not only because they had to, but also because they didn't want to disappoint the two individuals who for many became their adoptive mother and father. Needless to say, the feeling was often reciprocated by the IIIs, who pushed themselves to give the IVs the support that they never had. This ad hoc family was made complete with the grandfather-like figure of Colonel Yang and the doting though megalomaniacal Serena-420.

Recently, however, this almost cozy arrangement had fallen by the wayside. Colonel Yang had taken over the entirety of ONI Section III, and as a consequence, he was no longer on Onyx very often, his time and attention now shifting to Reach instead. Fortunately for the Spartan program, it had been in operation for so long now that any foreseeable problems had been ironed out beforehand. In the absence of the Colonel, Tom had effectively taken over the program with Lucy as his second-in-command. In an act of wisdom and foresight, Yang had dealt with Serena by simply overloading her research and work load.

For the few months since Operation Red Flag began, this arrangement had held together well enough. As Tom settled into Yang's old office in Camp Haya, however, he had a distinct feeling that the peace and quiet was not going to last. Over the past few weeks, Serena had been chomping at the bits as she outpaced even the overloaded schedule Yang had set for her. The Spartan was somewhat ashamed to admit he had been more than a little relieved when a message arrived from Colonel Yang a couple weeks back calling for Serena to come to Reach and assist him on some unspecified project. While Tom was naturally curious as to why Yang wanted her on Reach, he knew better than to look a gift horse in the mouth and quickly sent the crazed scientist offworld.

The doors opened, revealing Lucy. She quickly handed a pad over to Tom. Though she still couldn't speak, Tom had learned to read her face well enough. This was not good news.

On the pad was a manifest of certain items that had been reported missing over the last month. The only reason why it hadn't set off alarm bells yet was that it was mostly medical grade equipment such as inorganic nanotube, platinum foil, and busted parts for several medical robots. Moreover, it was in such small quantities that it could have easily been simple mistakes by technicians or quartermasters.

Tom looked up again, wondering why Lucy would even both to bring this up with him. The face that greeted him was a mixture of frustration and panic.

"_Keep reading"_, she silently mouthed.

There was another list of missing items, this one having been reported just today about missing Mjolnir Mk 5 armor components for some of the new Spartan-IV graduates preparing to leave Onyx and join the war. A chest piece, pauldrons, gauntlets, boots. It was everything needed to assemble a complete set of Mjolnir Armor.

Now he understood why Lucy looked so nervous.

"No, it can't be. It... It can't! Can it?"

Lucy simply fidgeted before him, a sheen of sweat forming on her forehead.

"But Serena's not here. Remember? Colonel Yang called for her to come to Reach." Tom said, though he found himself believing those words less and less with each passing second. The stolen armor components were biometrically secured and locked in hardened facilities with heavy guard contingents and state-of-the-art AI surveillance. It would take nothing less than a Spartan with an AI to break through those security measures.

That, or someone who had been training Spartans for over a decade and had shown herself capable of outsmarting all but the most powerful AIs in existence.

Add to that the missing medical equipment...

Suddenly, Lucy wasn't the only one in the office who was sweating in panic.

"Hold on. Let's not jump to conclusions yet. I'm sure that there's a perfectly reasonable explanation for everything. Okay, maybe Serena did steal all that stuff on that list. We'll send a message to Reach and tell them not to let Serena out of their sight and to look for all the stolen items."

One of the benefits of Colonel Yang's office was a QEC communication station built right into the desk, allowing for real time communication with Reach, Earth, and half a dozen other UN worlds. Tom quickly sent a message to Yang's office there.

Lucy walked over to Tom's side as he settled back into the seat.

"It's okay. We caught this before Serena could get anywhere with it."

But not two seconds after he said that, the desk's computer chimed with a message from Yang's office in Reach. It was from Mencius, Yang's personal AI.

"_Please clarify your message. I have no records of Colonel Yang sending for Serena to come to Reach. No transports from Onyx have arrived at Epsilon Eridani in the last month."_

A chill crawled up the two Spartans' spines as they realized the message's real implication: Serena had faked the message from Reach. It was well within her capabilities and it would give her the chance to steal a ship from under everyone's nose whilst she quietly assembled all that she needed to do the one thing that Yang and everyone else who was sane had been denying her for years:

Spartan Augmentation.

The computer chimed again. This time, it was a message with an anonymous sender with an invalid network address. It was short message, though one with earthshaking implications.

"_You're too late."_

And then darkness, prompting Tom to jump out of his seat. The office, indeed the entire base suddenly lost power. After a couple seconds, the emergency lights came on, flooding the office with an eerie red glow.

"She's here. She never left." Tom realized as he felt Lucy's shaking hand gripping his own equally unsteady palm.

"Serena! This is not funny!" Tom simply shouted, hoping that she could hear him.

An evil chuckle reverberated throughout the room, though neither Tom nor Lucy could pinpoint the source. It was Serena's voice.

"Actually, it is pretty funny from my perspective. But I digress. Sometimes, you can't trust anyone but yourself to do things right. And now Spearhead team is almost complete. Only one last step remains."

"You're not going to get what you want. Yang and HighCom made it clear that you're not going into the field no matter what!" Tom replied.

Another bout of crazed laughter followed before Serena finally continued her villain-esque monologue. "Oh, that's what they said. THAT'S WHAT THEY ALL SAID! Well, look at me now...well you can't literally look at me, but you get the idea. I knew that I'd have to take matters into my own infinitely brilliant hands. As for those idiot brass, I am to present them with a fait accompli. And once they see what lengths I was willing and able to go through, they'll finally understand what fools they were to leave me out for so many years. And besides..."

Suddenly, Serena's omnipresent voice shifted into a whisper.

A very close whisper right behind them.

"...the deed is already done!"

Serena had been behind them the whole time!

Tom and Lucy jump as they saw in the corners of their eyes the rippling effect of a Mjolnir armor decloaking. The freshly minted Spartan's armor had been heavily customized, not that either Tom nor Lucy could have even begun to guess at what Serena had done to the components.

Serena raised her now armored fist, the dancing arcs of electricity lighting up the depolarized visor. A set of vicious cobalt eyes bore into the two cornered IIIs as Serena announced what was previously the collective fear of the UNDF higher ups but now an immutable fact all must now deal with.

"Spearhead-6 reporting for duty! HAHAHAHAHAHAH"

_FIN_


	32. Chapter 32

**Disclaimer: I can't believe that this still has to be said, but Halo belongs to 343 Industries. Any attempts to sue the author will net you at most one of my doomsday devices (Go ahead and take, I have more!). **

**A/N: I should warn you that this chapter here is going have some shockers. It will hit people hard. Seriously, this here might annihilate...**

**Tikigod: Havoc, enough with the rambling. Just destroy them already!**

**Oh, right. Okay, let's get this show on the road.**

**And remember: this is an AU fic. The histories and personalities of certain characters do not line up with canon. The Prophet of Mercy, for example, is not a mook to be strung around like a lost puppy. Also, I'm changing the Prophets' throne chairs so that its a traditional shield and not the gamey "can stop weapons fire but not someone jumping on board to punch the Prophet's face out" shields.**

**And of course, Tikigod's editing skills were here.**

* * *

**"_The angry can be made happy again, but a kingdom that has once been destroyed can never again come into being nor can the dead be brought back to life." - Sun Tzu, The Art of War. _**

* * *

**1922 Hours, November 11th, 2552 (Military Calendar) / Covenant Holy City **_**High Charity**_**, X-3279 System, Sector 357.**

Everything had gone relatively according to plan up to now. That being said, John knew the operation was hanging on a knife's edge. Thus far, the Spartans have been able to exploit three critical yet fleeting factors in the battle.

The first factor was that the Covenant had been completely surprised by the sheer audacity of the UNDF operation in their most heavily protected piece of real estate thousands of light years behind the front lines.

The second was how the Spartans, together with the fleet and Cortana, had ensured that the initial Covenant response would bumbling and ineffective thanks to their decapitation of the Covenant's command and control capabilities as well as sabotaging the Covenant communications network.

Finally, the third factor was the neutralization of the Covenant's superior firepower and numbers thanks to their positioning near Covenant landmarks, relics, and other monuments which the fanatically religious Covenant were not willing to destroy. This, in turn, allowed the single 200mm artillery piece under Spearhead team to cripple transportation networks, destroy defensive installations, neutralize mission critical objectives, and to blast open a path for the other Spartan teams on the ground.

Unfortunately, all of these advantages would expire soon. As evidenced by the sweeps of the city by legions of Covenant warriors, the Covenant response was now becoming visibly more organized. This was inevitable as someone on the Covenant side would eventually get over the shock of the attack and reestablish command and control, even if they have to work around Cortana's electronic blackout. In addition, Spearhead team would have, by this time, exhausted most of their ammunition, leaving the other Spartans short on artillery cover. At the same time, the Spartans would have to quickly prosecute the one objective which the Covenant would not hesitate to unleash their firepower upon: the prison block, where hundreds of UNDF prisoners including Admiral Preston Cole were being held.

The prison facility was a miniature fortress with the defenses pointing in rather than out for obvious reasons. Compared to the other intricate buildings of the city, this facility was rather plain. A high wall, probably ten meters tall and five meters thick, surrounded an area about half a square kilometer to form a rough square. The surrounding territory was open land roughly half a kilometer wide, probably constructed that way to make sure any potential escapees would have no place to hide. There was only one gate into the compound with a single dirt road leading in and out; again, another likely anti-escape measure. Inside the walls were the barracks, armory, administration, and other facilities. The actual prison was underground, effectively a silo dug into the solid rock with multiple cell blocks per level. The only access was through the use of a gravity lift that was controlled from the top, an effective security measure that prevented any breakout without outside help. There was about a company's worth of Covenant soldiers present with some shade turrets and an anti-air crystal battery completing the defenses.

Fortunately, John and Colonel Mendez had planned for all of this. Even if Spearhead's artillery hadn't been nearly exhausted by this point, a single howitzer would not have been enough to provide the level of fire that they would need to take and hold the prison block as well as suppress the enemy's artillery. For that, they would have to escalate the situation. Noble team was already inside the facility, having infiltrated the compound to provide up-to-date intelligence and to ready the prisoners inside for the breakout. For their part, John and the rest of Blue team were slated to assist the breakout.

After escaping from the key ship, Blue team and its three Covenant engineer defectors had made their way under cloak to the prison block. Those three aliens had already helped to get through Covenant security sweeps before the shooting started and were doing the same now, dropping their cloak and interfering with Covenant sensors now that the enemy could no longer tell that the engineers were not on their side. Once they arrived at the edge of the clearing, Commander-117 left the Spartans' new friends behind to hide in an empty house. Linda had also stayed behind to once again provide overwatch from the rooftops and to protect the engineers. Under cloak, the five remaining Spartans slowly made their way to the wall opposite the gate to await their planned "escalation."

As they waited to make their next move, the Spartans paused to check their load outs once more. They had used almost half of their ammunition to get here. If Spartans don't get resupplied soon, they would have to pick up enemy weapons which, while they have become proficient with them, were not their preferred choice of weapons.

John checked over his own weapons. His 7.62mm SCR and PDR were still in working order and his pistol still hadn't been fired. Knowing their coming task, the Spartans had loaded their SCRs' underslung launchers with 50mm canister rounds. After he was done with his rifle and sidearms, John had to tend to one additional weapon on his person: the plasma pike that he had taken off that Elite honor guard he had grappled with before. John had used it a couple times during the running battle through the High Charity slums, leaving the Spartan with a nagging sense of proficiency that the commander knew that he shouldn't have. John examined the pike once more. He had drained the better part of its power cells and proceeded to swap them out with ones he had scavenged from the Covenant dead.

As he synced the power cells, the commander noticed something. The pike had suddenly changed. Instead of the carapace purple that the Covenant seemed so fond of, it now boasted a metallic sheen with spots of glowing blue and gold, similar to what John had seen back in the key ship. He didn't even remember turning on the blade, but yet here it was, a thin film of blue light that looked less like a sheet of compressed plasma than a film of light.

Time slowed to a crawl as John noticed his hands had changed too. It was not the image enhanced outline of his cloaked armor or the gun metal black that he had grown accustomed to but the same ornate metallic sheen with gold and blue outlines. On his left arm's gauntlet was a device that literally floated in the air yet followed the rest of the arm's motions. A blue film of light flowed off the device like a wrist shield. It was strange, and yet all of it seemed familiar.

He suddenly heard something in the distance. It was a wretched sound of tearing flesh like a meat grinder in operation. It sent a chill down his spine, and also prompted a familiar sense of dread. John felt like he knew with certainty what it was, but yet the actual thought of what _**it**_ was failed to materialize in his mind. It was like muscle memory, like a man operating on nothing but instinct. It was getting louder and more menacing with each fraction of a second.

He felt like he knew exactly what to do.

Before he moved, though, John heard another sound, this time a familiar voice uttering garbled words.

It was Cortana.

"Commander!" The AI shouted loud enough to hurt the Spartan's ears.

Then it was all gone. Back again was the image enhanced outline of his armor and the captured plasma pike that he was reloading.

For an entire second, Spartan-117 was left dumbfounded.

What the hell just happened?

"You back with us, Commander?" The AI said.

"I was gone?" 117 inquired.

"Just for a moment. I detected a massive spike in cerebral activity."

"Meaning?"

"Well, I honestly don't know. Your suit's sensors doesn't give me enough to data to say one way or the other. You've probably just taken one too many hits to the head recently." The AI joked.

"I'm fine." John dismissed, though neither one of them believed it.

"In any case, I detected the IFF signatures from our reinforcements. The cavalry is here."

"They all made it?" John asked

"So far, yes."

"And what about Medicant Bias? Did he do it?"

"There's no way to be sure right now, but I am reading a massive drop in power generation and usage from that ship. We can only assume that he pulled it off." The AI responded.

The rumbling in the ground was the first sign of things to come before the flotilla burst forth from the ground itself.

It was a sight for the ages, an inverse of the unfortunately common sight of Covenant ships terrorizing a hapless human colony. The flotilla of Spitfire-class corvettes were forming around the Sacred Valley, raining fiery death upon all Covenant soldiers within a two kilometer radius of the planned drop zone. The gunship corvettes formed a screen for the heavily laden transport corvettes which were seeking space to land the 7th Marines. One of the ships was even spewing out assault pelican drop ships and drop pods loaded with ODSTs. Messages over the com turned John back to the situation at hand as the UNDF ground forces broke radio silence.

"This is Overlord. We are on station. All call signs, report in." The gruff voice of Colonel Franklin Mendez commanded.

"This is Red Actual. We are proceeding with insertion." Fred declared.

"This is Noble Actual. We are in position and are awaiting go-ahead." Carter announced.

"This is Spearhead Actual. Ammunition down to 30 percent. We will expend our ammunition and then extract." Nicole said.

It was time to lay all the cards on the table**-** The weeks of travel in slipspace, taking the _Truth and Reconciliation_, the infiltration of High Charity. All the intricate plans, maneuvers, and deceptions had come to this point. It was time for the UNDF to commit everything to the field.

"This is Blue Actual. We are in position and are awaiting the go-ahead." John finished.

The response came swiftly.

"Overlord copies all. All call-signs, proceed with your objectives. I say again: all call-signs, proceed with your objectives!"

"Blue Actual copies. Proceeding with our objective." John finished before he turned to the com and raised Linda. "Smoke them."

From the distance back, a short barrage of 50mm smoke rounds landed around the gate. The results were immediate as the Covenant garrison inside quickly scrambled to the smoke, expecting to see their enemies coming across the open ground. Linda quickly fired off a few more HE grenades before the torrent of plasma, fissile, and needle fire chewed her position up. The barks and growls of elites and grunts suddenly perked as hordes of Covenant infantry responded and made for site of the commotion. No longer having the luxury of a hesitant and confused enemy, the Spartan sniper quickly withdrew to another rooftop, her retreat being covered by 200mm artillery fire from Spearhead team. More of the shells proceeded to pound the area around 058 as Linda quickly finished off the survivors and prevented more Covenant soldiers from linking up with the prison's garrison.

The other Spartans quickly took advantage of the distraction to begin their attack. With the guards distracted by the distant commotion, they sneaked over to one of the guard towers. At that moment, they heard a slight disturbance up top. One by one, the bodies of elites, jackals, and grunts were unceremoniously tossed over the railings, their necks having been slit or broken or their heads brutally caved in. A couple of figures leaned over to inspect the site, their faces wearing the gun metal black of Mjolnir armor as they tossed ropes down to their comrades below.

Blue team dropped their cloak and engaged their assault shields before pulling themselves up the wall. As they ascended, they could already hear the sound of small arms fire as the Nobles above protected Blue team's entry point. As John neared the top, a hand extended out to pull him over.

"Welcome to the party, Commander." Noble Six greeted, his armor likewise conspicuously glowing with his assault shields. Beside Six was Jun who was helping James up.

As the two Nobles helped each of the Blues up, the huge plasma bolts from the four Shade turrets hitting his assault shields made it quite clear to the commander that the Covenant now knew that they were here. Four quick cracks in the air were followed by each of the guns going silent, leaving 117 to quickly look back towards distance where Linda was still covering them. With the team over the wall, they quick joined Jorge and Emile who were holding each side of the catwalk as squads of Covenant soldiers attempted to drive the Spartans back over the wall. The waves of bullets and buckshot from nine Spartans quickly ended the Covenant counterattack. The two sides began to exchange fire, with volleys of fuel rod rounds and plasma bolts being answered with precision rifle fire and 50mm grenades.

"Sit-rep." John ordered as several fuel rod rounds slammed into the piece of cover he had been using, prompting him to move. The Covenant are definitely not holding back anymore.

"We have control of the facility's computer network, Sir. Carter is protecting the cell blocks

and Kat is taking control of the anti-air gun and releasing the prisoners." Six responded.

"I can confirm that, Commander. I now have control of the AA battery." Cortana added. "But the Covenant definitely knows we're here. I've intercepted fire mission requests targeting us right now!"

This was bad news. If what Cortana said was right, the Covenant was responding even faster than he had anticipated. They had been counting on the slow response of the Covenant to give them more time to clear the prison. As it was, it would be no easy task as the Spartans needed to take the prison and its defenses intact, creating an inverse of the erstwhile situation in that they were to be the ones exercising fire restraint instead of the Covenant. The reason for this caution was that the evacuation transports and the prisoners would need all the protection they could get. Now there was another impetus to take the compound quickly.

Fortunately, the Spartans did have a contingency: Spearhead's artillery would suppress hostile artillery until the 7th Marines' batteries come online. While Spearhead's artillery was available to help Blue and Noble teams to take the prison, it would be a last resort lest they themselves damage the defenses. Moreover, Spearhead's early barrages had been planned specifically to target the grav lifts and other infrastructure that would allow the Covenant to move troops against the prison and the valley. With the prison's AA battery at the Spartans' disposal, it should still be some time before Covenant reinforcements arrive.

Six began again. "And there's another problem, Sir. The prisoners are far more..."

Before Six could finish, the Spartans' HUD flared red as markers appeared pointing up towards the sky where several large bolts of white hot plasma arced towards the prison.

"Warning! Incoming hostile artillery fire! They have us zeroed!" Cortana shouted over the teams' com channel. In the background, the Spartans heard the sound of Spearhead's artillery offering counter-battery fire to knock out the Covenant guns, but it was obviously too late to destroy the Covenant guns before their massive plasma bolts hit.

There was no need for orders. The nine Spartans quickly darted from their cover and along the wall. But alas, there was not enough time to fully escape the first plasma bolt's explosive impact. A shower of molten metal and rock tore through the compound, hitting Spartans and Covenant alike and sending the commander flying through the air.

The world was a ringing blur to John as the commander pushed the half slagged debris off of him. His vision was still blots of yellow and white as both his eyes and his HUD struggled to restore themselves. As he finally pulled himself back onto his feet and shook off the sense of daze, 117 found himself alone yet again.

Well, not completely alone as he soon noticed two things.

First, Cortana was still with him as always.

"Commander? Commander!" The AI shouted. "Are you alright?"

John simply grunted in acknowledgment even as nausea and vertigo threatened to overtake him. But then, even through this haze of confusion, 117 noticed the smoke and dust settling around him to reveal one simple fact:

Spartan-117 had landed near the prison gate, right in the middle of almost two hundred bloodthirsty Covenant warriors. They have the high ground on the wall and cover by the prison's armory and barracks.

And they've all noticed the dazed lone Spartan in their midst.

"Get. Us. Out. Of. Here. NOW!" Cortana muttered with an undertone of panic as dozens of grunts, jackals, and elites began pointing their weapons at them. At least a dozen elites slowly circled the commander, all of them brandishing plasma rifles and swords as they snarled at their trapped prey.

That sound suddenly came back, the one of tearing flesh that chilled him to the core. He hadn't heard it in his ears but rather in his mind, bringing with it a head splitting migraine for a few moments. Again, the blur washed over the world as John saw it, leaving a dark landscape of barren rock, boulders, and sand intermittently covered by what seemed to be sickly yellow mold with a leathery sheen.

He was not alone here.

Dozens of blurred figures surrounded the Spartan, all armed with unknown firearms that were just as blurry as their owners were. In addition to those mysterious ranged weaponry, they all had an assortment of whips or claws attached to their arms.

Instinctively, the commander reached for his weapons. His rifle and PDR were missing, either destroyed or lost in the blast. John grasped the plasma pike with his right hand and his sidearm with his left before readying them against his wrist shield. Then he noticed the change again; his pike, armor, and wrist shield once more morphed to have the same aesthetics he saw on the Forerunner key ship. As a new surprise, though, John's M6E sidearm had likewise changed into some foreign weapon. Yet again, he felt as he knew exactly how to use it.

This time, though, confusion gave way to action as the mass of figures took aim at him and fired. Every good soldier instinctively knows that to stay still or to run while in a trap equaled death. There was only one option: attack.

The Spartan charged into the hail of incoming fire, his light lance in his right hand and his sidearm and wrist shield in his left. In an adrenaline-fueled frenzy, John dodged and weaved against the combination of bolts and beams of brilliant light even as his shields absorbed and deflected the few shots that hit. The figures nearest to him closed ranks and began their own counter-charge.

The key for any smaller force to defeat a larger one is for the former to first disrupt the cohesion of the latter and destroy them in piecemeal before they could reform. Just before the two sides collided, the Spartan aimed his light lance and fired, releasing a blue bolt of light that exploded amidst his enemies. The victims of the blast were not only thrown back but the two closest to the blast began to disintegrate as if they were being consumed like a piece of burning firewood.

The Spartan did not give his enemies the chance to recover and proceeded to drive his lance into his closest foe, watching it disintegrate into light as the others did before. The second blur lashed at him with its whip with an upward swipe. The Spartan jumped forward and spun on the balls of his feet to get inside his foe's arc and threw his enemy over him with his wrist shield. At once, he sliced the phantom figure with the light lance on his right hand while his left took aim with his sidearm at the third and fourth apparitions coming at him. Bolts of light shot out from the odd weapon's barrel until they both fell, the fourth falling onto its knees and requiring a stab with the lance to finish off. A fifth came hurtling through the air, intent on going over his shield. John rolled backwards, leaving the blur short before the Spartan shot forward to stab it. The shadow parried the strike but it left itself open to a swipe from John's shield, stunning the creature long enough for the commander to bring the light lance's blade back and cutting it in half. A sixth phantom figure came in from the left, firing as it closed. With his light lance, 117 slashed wide towards the blur's midsection only to see his blow parried. But the Spartan carried his momentum and backhanded his foe with his wrist shield, knocking it onto the ground and finishing it off.

Waves after waves of these apparitions came at him with bolts of light striking all around him, knocking him around like an enraged tempest. It was like a flood of these creatures; there seemed to be no end to them. Again and again, he blasted them apart with his lance before he charged them and took them apart one by one. Time stretched on as he felt as if he had struggled against the tide of these ghostly phantoms for days until finally both his wrist shield and his weapons finally gave out. With another barrage, his personal shield finally gave out and bolts of light struck his armor, knocking the Spartan down into the sand.

But just as that happened, the Spartan saw a familiar glint from the sand not far from his feet. It was his rifle, or at least it felt as if it was his rifle as it too bore the metallic sheen and blue and orange glow with its some of its parts seemingly floating in the air. John quickly swooped up the rifle. But before he could even fire a shot, another volley of luminous bolts scythed through the field, cutting down all the apparitions still standing. The Spartan looked towards the source of his salvation. It was a team of soldiers armed and attired as he himself was. There were eight of them all together, some on the sand with him while a few were on the rocks and boulders above him.

One of them came to him and helped him onto his feet. The soldier depolarized his or her visor and spoke.

"Sir?"

He knew that voice. He knew those eyes.

"Kelly?"

Then a different voice spoke.

"Oh, I DO know how to pick 'em."

He knew that voice too. It was Cortana.

Instantly, the world faded back into existence. Back again was the gun metal black of the Mjolnir armor and his SCR. Back again was the prison compound the Spartans had been storming, but now the area was littered with Covenant dead. Most of the corpses showed obvious signs of being dispatched by small arms fire. However, the bodies around John looked charred and had been sliced to pieces with a plasma blade of some sort. Well over a dozen and a half of these dead had Covenant plasma swords in their cold dead hands. Near John's feet was the plasma pike; its power cells had been completely depleted.

"The area is secured, sir. All hostiles eliminated**."**

"And we're ahead of schedule too." Cortana added.

The commander looked at the mission clock. It had been just two and a half minutes into the assault on the compound. They were ahead of schedule. All the projections had estimated that it would have taken at least four minutes to eliminate the garrison. By John's own estimates, it had been just about a minute since those plasma artillery rounds had blown him to the middle of the Covenant garrison.

He had killed well over a dozen and a half sword-armed elites in less than a minute.

"Did I kill them all?" John said to no one in particular.

"Well technically, it was twenty elites with swords and plasma rifles. The other Spartans got the rest. Still, I think that you've just set a record." Cortana quipped.

John nodded, but his thoughts were far from celebratory.

What the hell is happening to him?

The commander's thoughts were interrupted as he felt Kelly's hand on his arm.

"That was really good work, sir. With you distracting the entire garrison, it didn't take too much to clear them out. And when did you learn how to fight with a spear? I'm not even sure that Fred could do that."

Kelly's words prompted some serious thoughts the commander's head. Wiping out twenty sword-wielding elites in close combat in less than a minute with a weapon that he had barely any real experience with? And all of that while evading fire on open ground from at least a platoon of Covenant soldiers? John knew that he was a good soldier but he wasn't that good. He couldn't even attribute it to the ever-present "luck" that some people had ascribed to him. While he was in that… hallucination, he felt as if he knew exactly what he was doing. Every move and strike had the feel of long practice and hard experience. And it all started after leaving that key ship and picking up that plasma pike. The weapon alone shouldn't have done anything to him, otherwise the Covenant would surely have taken advantage of such a feature.

Then the Spartan remembered Mendicant Bias. The Forerunner AI had been quite adamant that the Spartans escape, even at the cost of its own survival. Bias had said that the information that the Spartans now carried had to make it back. Of this, John had no doubts about the AI's sincerity. However, it seemed as if the AI had its attention and interest on John himself specifically. In its last words to the humans, the ancient had declared that they would all one day know of the reasons for its actions and of the legacy of these Forerunners. Had Bias had done something to him during its time with the Spartans? Did it gave him some sort of message or, more ominously, a warning of what's to come that John was literally carrying within him? Was that even possible considering that his armor and shields were on the whole time? Then again, the technology on that ship was far beyond what either humanity or the Covenant could even conceive of.

It was pure speculation at this point, but John decided to let the matter go for now. While the Spartan definitely has his worries about whatever this phenomenon was, it was helping them so far. In addition, he has no proof of anything beyond a recorded spike in brain activity. Moreover, if it truly was something Bias had done to him, the commander shouldn't worry too much about it. Bias would not have done so much to help them only to screw them over now. Once he gets back to Reach, he'd bring it up with Doctor Halsey. She'd know what to do about this.

John turned back to Kelly.

"I guess that I'm full of surprises."

Kelly chuckled slightly. "Yeah. But I think I've had enough surprises for this mission."

John knew what she really meant by that. The commander "smiled", swiping two fingers across his visor.

Just then, Six stepped forward. It looked like there would be at least one more surprise in this mission.

"As I was saying before, sir, we have a problem."

* * *

**Ninth Age of Reclamation, Step of Silence \ Covenant Holy City "**_**High Charity**_**," Sacred Valley, Temple Halls.**

The temple hall held some of the most sacred treasures of the Covenant Empire. The scrolls and books of ages past had been gathered here long ago aside the walls of glass shards, each piece taken from worlds cleansed by the fiery wrath of the great horde. At the center of it all was a series of holograms kept eternally lit showing the embodiment of all the hopes of the empire's people: the seven Halos of the Forerunners, the very engines of their ascension to divinity.

Whereas most citizens of the Covenant standing before these artifacts would have the thoughts consumed with awe and reverence, the one standing here now had but fear and forebode.

How had it come to this?

Trapped amongst the hallowed columns of the temple halls, the Prophet of Mercy was now left with no escape. From what had been an entire legion of the most deadly warriors of the Covenant now remained barely two dozen survivors, the rest having been ruthlessly slaughtered by sharpshooters. Despite the bravery of these few warriors, the sound of human gun fire edged closer to the hall's entrance with each passing second.

It hadn't started out as a hopeless last stand. In fact, escape seemed foregone until a few minutes ago.

_As the great doors to the hall closed behind them, the Sangheili rear guard's sound of struggle were silenced. The Demons were upon them and had put them to the sword. But those guardsmen had died knowing that they had bought with their lives the time needed to seal their charge within the temple hall where they could mount a better defense. Such noble martyrs were assured a place in the Great Journey. _

_As the remaining honor guards jammed the door controls and welded the metal shut with their weapons, Mercy tried once more to call for help. The humans had planned and executed their attack well, making sure to cripple the city's communication networks. But unbeknownst to the humans (or really anyone outside of the Triumvirate of Hierarchs), the city had a far more secure com network hardlined into much of the urban infrastructure so that the Hierarchs could communicate with the utmost privacy. The course of the fighting had damaged the connections, though it was still possible to get somewhat garbled messages through. It was these garbled messages from the Prophet of Truth promising immediate and massive reinforcements that Mercy and his entourage now hung on to. But the reinforcements had been neither immediate nor massive. In fact, there had been no sign at all of any discernible attempts at rescue. _

_Mercy retreated to the archives and away from his guards before raising the com channel. Slowly, the blurred image of the Prophet of Truth materialized on before Mercy's throne chair. _

"_Where are your reinforcements, Ord? We cannot hold out for much longer!" Mercy shouted. _

_Truth, however, did not share the elder statesman's sense of urgency. "I assume that you have made your way into the temple halls and have sealed yourselves in?" _

"_Yes. We are safe for the moment but that will not last long. We are trapped here and the guards will not last much longer against the Demons. Now where is Tartarus?!"_

_A smug smile appeared on Truth's face. "I'm afraid that the chieftain will not be arriving any time soon. In fact, no one will be coming for you, save the humans of course."_

_It took a few moments for the implication of those words to sink in._

_Truth was leaving him to the mercy of the Demons. _

_Amused laughter from the younger Prophet snapped Mercy back to attention. _

"_You fool! Have you no idea what you have done? You__ have killed not just me but also the sacred union of the Covenant. When I am taken from the Covenant, so shall the center of masses be taken as well. When the High Council finds out what you have done, there will be nothing to bring both sides back from the edge of the abyss!"_

"_No, old friend. The High Council will not be finding out about this any time soon. As we speak, Tartarus is destroying what records of this that have survived the humans' attacks. And with so many of the Sangheili High Councilors dead, they will not be able to investigate anything before I'm finished __eliminating the rest of the evidence. That is what you did not know, but this is what you do not understand. You are a fool, trying to keep alive something that has died long ago. Our rule of the Covenant cannot last so long as the Sangheili remain preeminent, ever ready to strike us down and take complete control for themselves. The power of the San Shyuum will be secured only once the ire and energy of the Sangheili are consumed in vying against the Jiralhanae for our favor. And once you are gone, I shall deal with Regret and the humans. The way shall be clear to uplift the Jiralhanae and to return the Sangheili back in their place. You say that I threaten the union of our sacred Covenant? No, for in fact I am the savior and you are the villain, and I shall ensure that you will be remembered as such."_

_Apoplectic with rage, the elder heirarch slammed his fist into the throne's armrest, mustering all the spite he had for what he knew to be one last vindictive at Truth. _

"_You arrogant power hungry little whelp! You think that you can control what you have unleashed? No, you cannot and it shall swallow you whole. You shall crash and burn amidst the ruin and rubble as the Covenant is torn asunder, not at the hands of the humans but of our own. And our peoples, ALL our peoples, will weep for your mistakes__."_

Decades of work and thousands of years of legacy were now at risk of becoming undone. He could only hope that his worst fears would prove unfounded, that his loss would be an inspiration to rally the faithful masses and restore the sacred union rather than the last step before the abyss.

The captain of the guards approached Mercy. The Prophet had not bothered to remember his name, though the hierarch thought it better not to ask.

"Your eminence, any word on our reinforcements?" The captain asked.

After a moment of thought, Mercy gave his answer, the only answer that he could give to ones ready to give their lives in the mistaken belief that it might save his. "They are nearing us as we speak, though I doubt that they would arrive in time to stop the Demons from breaching the door."

The captain raised his plasma sword into the air and turned to his warriors. "Then we shall hold them here! We have the advantage of the terrain and of time. With the spirits of our ancestors and before the gaze of the Forerunners, we shall spill the blood of the Demons onto the temple's stones!"

Dozens of blazing swords followed the captain's into the air as the guards growled defiantly. Despite the lie, Mercy was as satisfied as one could be with the situation.

After all, it is such a terrible thing to take away someone's faith.

The warriors took up positions behind the columns before the the massive doors to the Temple Halls, readying their plasma rifles, swords, and grenades.

The captain turned to the Prophet once more. "Hierarch, please retire to the safety of the archives."

There is no safety to be had here, Mercy knew.

"Your concern is touching, Captain, but misplaced. I shall stay here and, if necessary, fight here. Your warriors will need the firepower that I can offer."

The Sangheili looked as if he were about to object but backed down in the face of the Mercy's determination. "It is an honor, your eminence."

The Prophet nodded before holding out his hand. "Your sidearm, Captain. And a grenade."

The Captain complied and handed over the weapons. If Mercy had been honest, he would have just asked for the grenade. Now, however, was not the time to tip his hand. With the pistol in hand and the grenade deep in the sleeves of his overlapping robes, the Prophet awaited the inevitable.

The doors flew apart in an explosion, announcing the Demons' arrival. A more inexperienced bunch might have started pouring fire at the exposed doorway, but the honor guards held their fire and waited for the enemy to show themselves. A number of canisters were tossed into the hall, prompted the guards to take cover. A shower of light and sound reverberated throughout the hall, shattering the hung shards of glass and overwhelming the senses. When the cacophony had ended, the guards looked out from behind the columns.

A trio of Demons, each clad in armor as black as the darkest of starless nights and surrounded by shields visibly lit like a Kigyar's, stood in the doorway. The two on the flanks had rifles of some sort but the one in the lead carried a metal blade with a glowing edge and a shorter weapon. The abominations walked in calmly, like soulless machines.

"Open fire!" The captain shouted.

The guards opened fire en mass. Those closer tossed grenades not only at the three Demons, but also at the doorway to block both their means of escape and of reinforcements. The three Demons in turn sprinted forward, dodging much of the incoming plasma bolts while their glowing shields absorbed the few that hit. Even more disconcerting was the sight of a couple of plasma grenades bouncing off said shields and in some cases even being swatted aside like offending insects.

The closest guards lit their swords and charged to meet the Demons, who in turn greeted them with a shower of metal and fire. Like predators moving in for the kill, the guardsmen split up their approach and attacked from the flanks, unleashing a torrent of plasma bolts as they went. But against this storm of metal and explosions, the first ranks quickly faltered. Two honor guards trailing their comrades were able to strike at the leading Demon only to find their cuts and slashes dodged or parried by the Demon's blade. The creature tossed one Sangheili aside for its brethren to finish off while cutting through the other guardsman's shields and stabbing him in the chest. The three Demons then took to the columns for cover, exchanging fire with the Sangheili as the honor guards attempted to maneuver in closer to destroy the attackers.

It was then that Mercy saw it. A shimmering in the air next to the captain, edging closer with every fraction of a second. Before anything could be said or done, the captain's shields lit up with tendrils of electricity, obscured only by the black armor of a Demon materializing behind its victim. With a blade like the one in the hands of the first Demon, it sliced right through the captain's shields and neck in one stroke. More Demons appeared, ambushing the guards in the rear ranks. The three near the door took the opportunity to renew their attack against the surprise and now outflanked Sangheili.

The nearest Demon, the one who had slain the captain, turned its sight onto the Prophet. Mercy made sure that his throne chair targeting system had the abomination in its sights before he raised his plasma pistol and fired. The human easily dodged the Prophet's pathetically swerving aim and attempted to jump onto the throne chair only to bounce off its shields and crashing and rolling into the ground.

Mercy snarled as overcharged the pistol and fired the massive plasma bolt at the Demon's prone form. Though the Demon's shields seemed to have held, it seemed to still be stunned from its collision with the prophet's shields. As the human shook its head in an attempt to recover itself, Mercy slammed on the throne's weapons controls. A brilliant beam of plasma struck right into the Demon's prone torso. Charred bones and slagged armored was all that remained.

"Hah!" The Prophet spat before turning back to the battle, or at least what had been a battle as the last of the honor guards had fallen. And not only were the Sangheili guardsmen gone, but so were the other Demons. Mercy was alone amongst the temple's columns, despite the throne's scanner's best efforts. The San Shyuum's eyes darted back and forth, knowing full well that cloaked Demons could be hiding in plain sight.

The shields flared as Mercy realized that he had been attacked from behind. It was a short burst of human rifle fire followed by silence as the throne turned around only to find nothing but air and empty space.

The shields flared again, this time showing rippling impacts on both his left and right. But again, the San Shyuum found nothing.

Then came more attacks in rapid succession, each time a short burst on the flanks of the Hierarch or behind him where the throne's cannon could not reach. Even the powerful shields of the throne began to wane before this onslaught.

With a snarl every bit as much panic as aggravation, Mercy began firing randomly into the air before unleashing one sustained burst slicing a wide arc through the columns.

"Show yourselves!" The Prophet demanded. But alas, neither the scanner nor the Prophet's weak eyes could spot his foes.

When the scanners did detect movement behind to his right, Mercy turned to see power cells hurtling through the air towards him. The devices overloaded, taking what's left of the throne's shields with them.

The world spun as Mercy felt something lifting him out of the chair throwing him onto the ground. A flash of light and heat heralded an explosion in the distance as the Hierarch felt the Demons pin him to the ground.

As the Demon reached for Mercy's arms to restrain him, the Hierarch finally understood what the humans had hoped to accomplish by attacking High Charity: they were after a Prophet. Maybe they wanted to learn what secrets he knew or to even force him to surrender the Covenant? Mercy did not know, nor did he care. Everything he had done over these last few decades had been done in order to preserve the Covenant against the human threat to their faith. He would make one last sacrifice to that end.

Before the Demon could reach for the right arm, Mercy reached for plasma grenade still hidden in his sleeves and pressed the detonator switch. The Prophet then attached the device to the skin on his chest.

As the Demon noticed the armed grenade spinning up, Mercy spoke his last words for his people, ones that they would never hear.

"For the Journey! For the Covenant!"


End file.
